#y Emojis & Text

✞☠︎𝒫ℴ𝒾𝓈ℴ𝓃 ☠︎✞

²

SWEET CWEAM pt. 2 Plankton's gaze shifted to the ceiling, where shadows danced in the harsh fluorescent light. He tried to remember, but his thoughts were like grains of sand slipping through his fingers. "Karen," he whispered, his voice tiny and lost. "My tweef?" Her smile never wavered, her eyes steady on his. "Don't worry about your teeth now. They're all taken care of." Plankton's mind raced, trying to grasp the concept of missing teeth. He swallowed, the movement painfully sluggish in his throat. "Buh... buth how?" "They used a special kind of sleepy medicine," she explained, her voice a calm lullaby in the stark reality of the recovery room. "It made sure you didn't feel any pain." Plankton's eye grew rounder still, his curiosity piqued. He felt a strange giggle bubble up from his chest, the absurdity of the situation tickling his funny bone. "Sleeby meds?" he repeated, the words coming out like a slurred song. The nurse, used to seeing patients in various states of post-op confusion, just smiled. "Yes, the sleepy medicine," she said, her voice a comforting lilt. "It's to keep you calm and pain-free." Plankton's eye wandered to the IV drip next to his bed, the clear fluid snaking into his arm. "Meee," he managed. The nurse followed his gaze and explained, "That's just some fluids to keep you hydrated, Mr. Plankton. You've been asleep for a little while." Karen watched as his eye grew distant, his mind adrift in the sea of anesthesia. The drool trickled down his chin, and she tenderly dabbed it away with a tissue. "Do you remember anything?" Plankton's gaze flickered, and a faint smile tugged at his numb lips. "I 'member flying," he murmured, his voice a whisper of a dream. "I thaw youw were thewe," he said, his eye half-closed. "Youw wuz a buttefly." Karen's eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and concern. "I was a butterfly?" she repeated, playing along. "That's sweet, Plankton." He nodded, his eye glazed with a dreamy expression. "Yew wuz," he insisted, his voice still slurred. Karen couldn't help but laugh, the tension of the day finally breaking. "Okay, my little butterfly," she whispered, her thumb brushing his cheek. "Why don't we go home?" The nurse nodded, preparing the discharge papers. "You can take him now," she said, handing them to Karen. "Make sure he gets plenty of rest and stick to soft foods for the next few days." Karen helped Plankton to his feet, his body protesting the sudden movement. He swayed like a willow in the wind, his arm draped heavily over her shoulders. Together, they shuffled out of the recovery room, his feet dragging against the floor as if tethered to an invisible weight. The numbness in his mouth had spread to his cheeks, giving his face a lopsided smile that made him feel like a clown, his mouth still frozen in a lopsided smile as he chuckles. Karen led him out of the clinic. Plankton’s eye closed as he suddenly tilted onto her, letting out a little snorelike snort. "Plankton, wake up," she giggled, half-supporting his weight. The fresh air hit his face like a slap, waking him up just enough to realize his mouth was still as numb as a brick. He tried to speak, but it was like his tongue had forgotten how to move. "Wha...?" he mumbled, his eye searching for understanding. The world around Plankton was a blur of shapes and colors. "Walky," he slurred, his legs like jelly under him. Karen guided him to the car, his legs moving as if through molasses. Once inside, he fidgeted with the seatbelt, his fingers refusing to cooperate. "Let me," she said, buckling him in, making his eye go wide again. "Thathks," he muttered, “I thee the twess," he said, his voice filled with wonder as if he had just been born. Karen chuckled, starting the car. The engine hummed to life, and Plankton's eye followed the world as it moved past the window, his gaze unfocused and innocent. "Lookit the twess," he said, his voice filled with awe. "They'we aww bending to shay hewwo." Karen couldn't help but laugh at his slurred words. "Yes, they do that when it's windy," she explained, her voice a comforting balm to his confused mind.

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A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY i (By NeuroFabulous) Chip and his friend Alex go to the Chum Bucket, where Chip lives with his parents Karen and Plankton. Chip had been looking forward to this moment all week. His friend Alex, the new kid in school, was finally coming over to his place. Chip's thought about the endless possibilities of what they could do together. Would they play video games? Maybe build a fort? Or, if they were lucky, his mom Karen might let them have ice cream before dinner.. The door swung open. "Welcome to the Chum Bucket," Chip said with a proud smile, leading Alex inside. Karen looked up from her book. "Hi," Alex said nervously. Karen's eyes widened. "Oh, hello!" She hadn't been expecting company. But she put down her book. "You must be Alex!" Alex nodded. "Hi, Chip's mom," they mumbled. "Just call me Karen, sweetie," she replied, her voice as warm as a freshly baked pie. "You two have fun!" She turned back to her book, her screen dancing with curiosity as they climbed the stairs. Chip's room was at the end of the hall, but they weren't going there yet. "C'mon," he whispered to Alex, his screen sparkling with excitement. "I want to show you my Dad!" He led him to the bed room door. They tiptoed closer. Plankton's on the bed. Alex peered around the doorframe, their curiosity piqued. "Surprise!" Chip shouted, jumping forward. Plankton's antennas shot straight up, a mix of shock and annoyance. But Plankton didn't move. He remained frozen in place, his eye vacant and unblinking. Alex took a step back, concerned. Chip's excitement faded into puzzlement. "Dad?" he called out, nudging Plankton's arm. No response, not even a twitch. They both stared at him, the room silent except for the faint buzz of a neon sign outside. Plankton's body was rigid. Chip felt a twinge of fear. This wasn't like his dad, who was always bursting with ideas and energy. Alex's grip on the doorknob tightened. They approached the bed slowly. Plankton remained unblinking. "Dad, are you ok?" Chip asked, his voice cracking. He reached out to shake him gently. Plankton's arm was cold and stiff, like a mannequin. Chip's heart raced. He'd never seen his dad like this before. Alex's eyes widened in alarm, their grip on the doorknob turning white. They stepped back, exchanging glances. "Chip, what's going on?" Alex whispered, fear seeping into their voice. Chip's eyes searched the room, his heart racing. "I don't know," he replied, "but we have to do something!" He rushed to the bedside, his hands trembling as he touched his dad's face. "Dad! Dad!" Alex hovered near the door, unsure of what to do. "Should we get your mom?" Chip nodded, his voice shaking. "Yeah, we need to tell." They both bolted out of the room and sprinted down the stairs. "Mom!" Chip yelled, "Something's wrong with Dad!" Karen looked up from her book, her face puzzled. "What do you mean, Chip?" But when she saw the look on his face, she set the book aside and followed them upstairs. In Plankton's room, she paused. The silence was heavy, and the tension was almost palpable. She could see the fear in Chip's eyes, mirrored in Alex's wide gaze. They pointed to the bed, where Plankton still sat, unmoving. Karen took a deep breath. She had known about Plankton's secret for years—his autism. But moments like these were always difficult to navigate. "It's okay," she assured them, her tone calm and steady. "Sometimes Daddy has these moments where he goes into his own world. It's part of who he is." She approached the bed slowly, her movements deliberate and gentle. Plankton's chest rose and fell with his breath, but he didn't acknowledge their presence. Karen placed a hand on his shoulder, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and understanding. "Plankton?" she called softly, her voice barely a whisper in the quiet room. No response. Her heart ached for her husband, trapped in his own thoughts. She had learned over the years to recognize the signs of his episodes, but seeing him like this never got easier. Carefully, Karen sat down beside him, her hands resting on his shoulders. "It's okay, sweetie," she murmured, her voice soothing. "You're safe." Slowly, she began to rub his back in small, comforting circles. Chip and Alex watched, silent and worried, from the doorway. Minutes ticked by like hours. Karen's gentle persistence never wavered. Then, almost imperceptibly, Plankton's shoulders relaxed, his eye blinking back into focus. He looked around the room, bewildered. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse. Chip and Alex breathed out in relief. Karen smiled warmly, her eyes never leaving Plankton's. "It's okay, honey," she said, her voice a lullaby. "You're back with us." Plankton's gaze found hers, his mind slowly returning from its solitary adventure. He looked from her to the two in the doorway, confusion etched on his face. Alex took a tentative step forward, their heart still racing. "Are you okay?" Plankton blinked. "What happened?" Plankton managed to ask, his voice scratchy from his silent reverie. Karen stood, placing a comforting hand on his knee. "You had one of your episodes, sweetheart," she explained gently. "But it's okay. You're back now." Chip stepped into the room, his eyes brimming with relief. "What's an episode?" Alex asked softly, their curiosity overcoming their fear. Karen turned to them, her expression gentle. "It's like his brain goes on a little trip," she said, trying to simplify it. "It's part of him. Sometimes he needs time to come back." Alex nodded, their eyes still glued to Plankton. "Does he know he does it?" they asked, their curiosity genuine. Karen squeezed Plankton's hand. "He knows, honey," she explained. "But sometimes it's like he can't stop it." Chip felt a pang of sadness, his earlier excitement now replaced with a deep concern for his father. He knew that his dad was different from other parents, but he had never seen him like this. It was as if Plankton had been taken from them for a brief moment, leaving a shell in his place.

KAREN AND THE TEETHIES i Karen sat by her husband Plankton, who's in the dentist chair. They numbed his arm where the Iv's to go in; today Plankton gets his wisdom teeth surgically removed. The dentist, a man named Dr. Finnegan, leaned in and said, "Plankton, you're going to start to feel sleepy now." Dr. Finnegan started the Iv. "Are you sure? I'm still awake and not to mention a light sleeper," Plankton says, "I don't feel anyth—" His voice trails off as his eye flutters closed, his mouth opens slightly, revealing his tiny white teeth, and his body goes limp. His head tips to one side, and Karen reaches over to gently push it back to a more comfortable position. Plankton's snoring echoes softly in the surgical room. Karen watches Dr. Finnegan as he starts to prep for the procedure. He's all smiles and nods, assuring her that everything will be fine. The smell of antiseptic fills the room as Dr. Finnegan cleans the area around Plankton's mouth with a cool, minty solution. Karen's grip on her husband's hand tightens instinctively, even though he doesn't stir, lost in the depths of sleep. Dr. Finnegan's assistant, a slender young man with a gentle touch, carefully inserts the mouth prop to keep Plankton's mouth open. Plankton's snores change pitch slightly, but he still doesn't wake. Karen squeezes Plankton's hand, even though he's unconscious. The assistant nods at Dr. Finnegan, who begins to explain the procedure to Karen. She nods, trying to focus on his words, but her eyes keep drifting to her snoring husband. She can't help but feel a mix of anxiety and affection. Plankton, ever the worrier, had been so nervous about the surgery. Now he's out like a light, blissfully unaware of the impending extraction. The assistant places a soft bib under Plankton's chest to absorb any excess saliva. His snoring gets a little louder, and Karen can't resist the urge to smile. Dr. Finnegan then starts the actual surgery, making an incision in Plankton's gum. The sound of the drill starts to fill the room, a high-pitched whine that makes Karen's teeth ache in sympathy. She watches as the assistant suctions the area to keep it clean. Plankton's body remains still, his breaths deep and even. The tension in the room is palpable, even though Plankton is completely oblivious to it. Karen's thumb rubs his knuckles in a soothing rhythm as she watches Dr. Finnegan's steady hand make the first incision, and Plankton's snores hitch slightly before resuming their normal rhythm. The assistant, noticing Karen's nervousness, gives her a reassuring smile. "It's normal for any snoring to change a bit. He's still deep in sleep." Plankton's snores become more rhythmic as the surgery progresses. Dr. Finnegan's expert hands navigate the tight space of his mouth with ease. Karen's gaze shifts from the dental tools to the monitor above them. It displays an X-ray of Plankton's mouth with the wisdom teeth highlighted, their jagged edges pressing against the other teeth. The reality of the procedure sets in, but she trusts the dentist. Her thumb continues to stroke his hand. The drill's whine grows louder, and the smell of bone dust mingles with the antiseptic. Plankton's snores remain unfazed, a testament to the anesthesia's effectiveness. The assistant periodically wipes away the blood and saliva that collects in the corners of his mouth, his eyes never leaving his task. Karen's eyes dart to the clock. Time seems to crawl as the minutes pass. Each snore from Plankton is a comforting metronome, keeping her anxiety in check. The surgical team works with precision, their movements choreographed from years of practice. The nurse keeps a close watch on the monitors, noting Plankton's vitals with a nod of approval. Dr. Finnegan's concentration is unbroken, his expression a mask of focus. The sound of the drill pauses, and Karen's heart skips a beat, but it's quickly followed by the crunch of bone as the first wisdom tooth is exposed. Plankton's snoring doesn't miss a beat. She swallows hard, her eyes stinging slightly from the tension. The nurse notices her discomfort and offers a kind word, "You're all doing great." Karen nods as Dr. Finnegan gently probes the tooth with a tiny pair of forceps, his brow furrowed in concentration. The drill starts up again, cutting through the bone. Karen's eyes dart between her husband's face, the X-ray monitor, and the clock, each tick another step closer to the end of this ordeal. Plankton's snores don't even hitch as Dr. Finnegan applies gentle pressure to the tooth. The forceps clamp down, and the tooth gives a little. Karen holds her breath, her eyes wide with anticipation. The tension in the room is like a tightrope, but Plankton remains completely relaxed, unshaken by the invasion in his mouth. With a final, almost ceremonial scraping, the first wisdom tooth is free. Dr. Finnegan's smile widens as he holds it up for Karen to see before disposing of it. "One down, three to go," he says cheerfully, as if removing teeth is as simple as plucking daisies.

what the fuckkkkkkkkk jose you made a even worse joke like go suck a dick i hope catch on fire and fall in a 10000000ft hole and spalt on the fucking ground and am telling your mom again now you can bye to your fucking life you stupid bitch like fuck you funny fact for dumbass santa not real cause i burned him oo and your gf is breaking up with your fat ass like go walk for once you fat fuck 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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2/2 THE MOOON Karen couldn't help but giggle at his befuddled state. His usual stoic demeanor was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a childlike wonder and confusion. He tried to sit up again, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated. "Stay still," she said, placing a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. "How... how's it... it over?" he slurred, his mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton trying to form words around his thick tongue. The nurse, who had seen this reaction before, offered a reassuring pat on the arm. "You're all done, Mr. Plankton. The anesthesia is just taking its time to wear off. You're going to feel a bit funny for a while." Plankton's eye rolled back, his body lolling to the side like a ragdoll's. "I can't feel my face," he mumbled, his words barely coherent. "It's the anesthesia," she explained, her voice soft and soothing. "It'll wear off soon." Plankton's eye rolled back in his head, and his antennae flopped to the sides as if they had lost their will to stand tall. "I've been... I've been... to the mooon!" he exclaimed, his slurred words tripping over each other. The nurse and Karen couldn't help but laugh at his nonsensical rambling. "The moon?" Karen managed to get out between giggles. "You mean the dentist's chair?" Plankton's eye snapped back to hers, his antennae perking up slightly. "No, no... the moo... the cheesy moo!" he insisted, his speech still slurred and his gaze unfocused. His hand waved in the air, trying to describe something that clearly only existed in his anesthesia-induced haze. Karen's laughter grew louder as she watched him. "The cheesy moon?" she repeated, trying to make sense of his gibberish. The nurse's chuckles grew to a full-blown laugh, shaking her whole body. "It's ok Mr. Plankton," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "You're safe here." Plankton's antennae waved erratically, his mouth forming another round of slurred syllables. "The... the... shmoobly wobble!" he exclaimed, his eye glazed over with a far-off look. "Whewe's shmoobly go?" Karen couldn't hold back her laughter anymore. "Oh, Plankton, you're so funny when you're like this!" she exclaimed, her voice full of mirth. "Fum-fum," Plankton slurred. "I'm not fum-fum," he protested, his voice a mix of indignation and the lingering effects of the anesthesia. His antennae wobbled. "Wha’ you do wiff Mx shmoobly?" "Your mouth is just numb," she explained, her voice shaking with laughter. "You had wisdom teeth removed." "Widom... teef?" Plankton repeated, his voice a mix of slurs and half-sounds. "The... the shmoobly wobble took them?" Karen's laughter grew. "No, Plankton, your wisdom teeth. They were removed." Plankton's eye searched hers, his expression one of utter perplexity. "But... but where's the shmoobly wobble?" he demanded, his mouth a mess of numbness and anesthesia. Karen couldn't contain her laughter any longer, bending over in her seat, her hand over her screen. The nurse was equally amused, her shoulders shaking with silent giggles. "Shmoobly wobble?" she managed to ask between gasps. "What's a shmoobly wobble?" Plankton's antennae waved with the vigor of a drunken sailor. "It's... it's a... a vnorbly snork!" he exclaimed, his words a delightful jumble that made no sense in the sober world. Karen's laughter was infectious, and even the nurse found it hard to maintain her professional demeanor. "A vnorbly snork?" she repeated, her smile growing wider. "What does that do?" Plankton's face scrunched up as he tried to gather his thoughts. "It... it makes... makes the teef... it makes the teef go bye-bye!" he exclaimed, his antennae waving wildly. The nurse covered her mouth, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, I see," she said, nodding as if she understood. "The shmoobly wobble is quite a character." Karen wiped a tear from her screen, her laughter subsiding. "I think we should get you home, sweetheart," she said, her voice still thick with mirth. "You need to rest." Plankton's antennae twitched, his gaze firmly locked on the nurse. "The... the... snibble-bobble?" he declared. "Take the snibble-bobble home, Karen..." The nurse's eyes twinkled with humor and she nodded. "Yes, Mr. Plankton. The snibble- bobble will take good care of you at home." Plankton's mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to form words that simply would not come out right. "Karen, did you... did you see the... the... the... floobly-doobly?" Karen's laughter bubbled up again. "The floobly- doobly?" she repeated, her voice wobbling with mirth. "What's a floobly-doobly?" Plankton looked at her with confusion. "Huh? The whath?" He asked her. Karen tried to calm her laughter. "The floobly-doobly, Plankton," she said, smiling broadly. "You mentioned it just now." Plankton's eye searched hers, his thoughts a jumble. "I... I don't know," he murmured, his voice trailing off. With the nurse's help, Karen managed to get him into a sitting position, his movements sluggish and clumsy. His legs felt like jellyfish, flailing about with no sense of direction. "Come on," she coaxed, helping him stand. Plankton's eye remained half-closed as he stumbled towards the door. The hallway looked like a twisted kelp forest, and his body felt like a ship adrift without a compass. The nurse provided a steady arm, guiding him down the corridor. "Keep walking," she instructed, but with each step, Plankton seemed to drift closer to sleep. His head bobbed, his eyelid fighting a losing battle against the siren's call of slumber. "Plankton, stay with me," Karen urged, her voice a gentle reminder of the world around him. But his body had other ideas, his legs giving out under him. The nurse caught him, her laugh now a warm chuckle at his plight. "It's the anesthesia," she explained. "It'll wear off soon. Just keep talking to him, it'll help keep him alert." Karen nodded. "Look, Plankton," she said. "Can you see the little fishy?" Plankton's eye snapped open, his antennae shooting up. "Fishy?" he repeated. He took a few wobbly steps before his legs gave out once more, and he leaned heavily on the nurse. "Whoa, there," she said, steadying him with a laugh. "We're almost to the car." Plankton's antennae drooped, his eye half-closed again. "So... so tiwed," he mumbled. "We're almost there," Karen assured. The nurse opened the door to the waiting area. Plankton blinked slowly, his eyelid drooping once again. The bright light from outside was like a siren's song, lulling him back into the depths of sleep. "Come on, Plankton, stay awake," Karen encouraged. But the world was spinning, and the siren's call of sleep was growing stronger. With each step closer to the car, his eyelid grew heavier, and his mind swam with a haze of disorientation. The floor beneath his feet felt like waves, and he stumbled again, his hand reaching out for support that wasn't there. "Keep talking," the nurse whispered to Karen, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Karen took a deep breath, forcing her own laughter down. "Remember the time we found the treasure?" she asked, hoping to keep him alert. Plankton's antennae perked up slightly, his sluggish eye focusing on hers. "Tweasure?" he murmured. The nurse nodded encouragingly, and Plankton took another step, his body swaying like a piece of kelp in the current. "Yeah," he mumbled, "the... the... goldy wobble." His words were slurred, his mind lost in the fog of the anesthesia. They made it to the car, and Karen gently guided him into the passenger seat. She buckled him in, his body already slack with the weight of exhaustion. "Tell me more," she said, trying to keep his thoughts on the treasure they had found together, anything to keep his mind engaged. But Plankton's eye weas closing again, his head lolling against the headrest. "Goldy... wobble... " he murmured, his words barely audible. "It's okay, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice soothing. "You can rest." With a contented sigh, Plankton gave in to the warm embrace of slumber, his body going limp. Karen started the engine and drove carefully, her mind racing with the events of the day. The thought of her stoic husband, reduced to a slurring mess, was too absurd to fully comprehend. Yet, there was a tenderness in his vulnerability that made her love him all the more.

A TOOTHY STORY pt. 2 The room is quiet except for the occasional slosh of the saline and the whirring of the chair's recline. Karen watches as the nurse, Nina, applies gauze to the newly-emptied sockets where the teeth once were. The redness is stark against Plankton's slackened face. His snores are deep and even, his antennae resting limply on the chair's headrest. The doctor, Dr. Marlin, gives her a thumbs-up, a silent assurance that everything went according to plan. Karen feels a weight lift from her shoulders. The procedure is over, and Plankton is safe. His breathing continues, the anesthesia still keeping him in its gentle embrace of peaceful slumber. Nina turns to her with a sympathetic smile. "It's normal for patients to feel a bit groggy once they wake up. Sometimes they're a bit disoriented. It's like coming out of a deep sleep. It's normal if today he seems a little out of it. Bleeding and brushing are to be expected, and swelling is normal." "But he'll be okay?" Karen asks, her voice shaking. "More than okay," Dr. Marlin assures her, "Just follow the aftercare instructions and he'll be back to his usual self in no time. Just remember, no solid foods for a few days, lots of fluids, and keep those ice packs handy." Nina adds, "Keep an eye on him. He might be a bit forgetful, or say some funny things. It's just the anesthesia wearing off. Nothing to worry about." As they wheel Plankton into recovery, Karen watches his chest rise and fall with each breath. Nina, the nurse, explains, "The numbness is normal, it's the local anesthesia wearing off. It can feel weird, but don't worry, it'll fade. As for sleepiness, it's just the body recovering from the anesthesia. He might be a bit wobbly on your feet or have some difficulty speaking because of the numbness. Just take it slow, okay? Yet you can talk to him right now while he wakes if you'd like, even if he doesn't fully understand you yet." Karen nods, leaning in close to her husband's. "It's over, Plankton," she murmurs. "You did great. Just a little bit more sleep and then we'll go home." Plankton's breaths are slow and steady, his body still under the anesthesia's spell. The recovery room is dimly lit. The nurse, Nina, keeps a close eye on Plankton as Karen sits beside him, her hand resting on his arm. She's always been there for him, a constant source of comfort in the face of fear. The receptionist from earlier, Becky, comes in to check on Plankton, her face still cheerful despite the early hour. "How's our patient?" she asks Karen, glancing at the monitors that track his recovery. Plankton's chest rises and falls steadily, his snores punctuating the quiet. Karen smiles weakly. "He's still out of it." Becky nods. "That's normal. The anesthesia takes a little while to wear off. He'll wake up soon enough. You can talk to him if you'd like. Sometimes it helps to hear familiar voices." Karen looks down at Plankton's peaceful face. "You're going to be okay, sweetheart," she says softly. "Just a little longer, and then we'll go home. No more worrying." A line of drool starts to trickle from the corner of Plankton's numb mouth. It's a sight Karen's seen before, but only during his deepest slumbers. She reaches for a tissue and gently dabs at the saliva pooling, his body still under the sedative's grip. She cannot help but feel a twinge of pity for his vulnerable state, despite his snoring. The drool slowly starts to form a tiny river on the chair, a silent testament to the depth of his sleep. Karen wipes it away, knowing he'd be embarrassed if he were conscious of the sight. The nurse, Nina, checks his vitals, satisfied with his progress. "You can sit him up now," she says. "Just make sure he's actually awake before we get him walking." Karen carefully turns Plankton's chair with the lever, which gently guides his sleeping body upright. As the chair moves, Plankton's snoring changes pitch, his head lolling slightly. Karen smiles despite herself, his vulnerability endearing. Gently, she cups his cheek guiding his head back up. "Don't worry, Plankton. Almost time to go home," she says, her voice soft as a morning lullaby.

WISDOM WITH TEETH 2/2 The nurse returns with a wheelchair. "Alright, Mr. Plankton," she says with a smile. "Let's get you up and moving." He looks at her with a dazed expression, his mouth hanging open slightly as he drools onto his chest. "Whath's the maddah?" he asks, his words jumbled. Karen tries to hide her smile as she gently wipes his mouth with a tissue. "You're just groggy, sweetie. The anesthesia's wearing off," she explains, taking his hand. "Let's get you into the chair." With her help, Plankton manages to stand, his legs shaky beneath him. The nurse places the wheelchair behind him, and he plops down with a sigh of relief, the chair's cushions enveloping his frail frame. His drool hangs from his mouth like a tiny waterfall, and she can't help but lean in and kiss him gently on the forehead. He looks up at Karen with the wide, wondering eye of a toddler discovering the world for the first time. "Whath's...thath?" he asks, his gaze fixed on the wheelchair. Karen laughs lightly, her hand still steadying his arm. "It's for you to sit in so you don't have to walk all the way to the car." He nods slowly, the action causing his antennae to wobble. With a gentle push from the nurse, the wheelchair begins to move, and Plankton looks like a lost child in an unfamiliar playground. His drool forms a small puddle in his lap, and Karen graciously hands him another napkin. The corridor outside the recovery room is a blur of white walls and sterile equipment, but the warmth of Karen's hand on his shoulder keeps him anchored. "Whath's...thath?" he asks again, his gaze fixed on the ceiling lights as they pass above him. They look like stars, twinkling in an alien sky. Karen smiles patiently, pointing out each one. "They're just lights, Plankton. We're in the hallway now." His eye follows the nurse's hand as she opens the door to the waiting area. She can see the fear and confusion in his gaze, but she knows it's just the drugs. A young couple with a toddler looks over as they pass by. The little girl giggles, pointing at his mouth. "Mommy, why is he drooling?" she asks innocently. The mother blushes and pulls her daughter away, muttering an apology to Karen. Plankton's cheeks redden, and he tries to wipe his mouth discreetly with the back of his hand. "It's ok," Karen whispers, her voice a gentle breeze. "You're just a little out of it." He nods, his gaze still mesmerized by the lights. "Whath's thath?" he asks again, pointing at a framed poster on the wall. Karen leans in to look. "It's a picture of a happy family," she says, her voice a balm to his confusion. His antennae twitch, and he nods again, the motion setting off a fresh wave of drool. The nurse wheels him out to the car, and Karen helps him into the passenger seat, his body moving like a ragdoll. "Buckle up, Plankton," she says, and he fumbles with the seatbelt, his hands slipping over the buckle. She fastens it for him, his cheek pressed against the cool leather. "Whewe's we going?" he slurs, his voice laced with sleep. "Home," she says. His mouth hangs open slightly, a string of drool connecting his bottom lip to his chin. "Whath's happening?" he mumbles, his head lolling to the side. "You're ok, honey. We're just driving home." She keeps her voice low, hoping to keep the outside world at bay. The car jolts over a bump, and Plankton's eye snaps open. "Ow," he whines, his hand flying to his mouth. The cotton has shifted, and the pain is sharp. Karen quickly reaches over and readjusts it, her touch gentle. "You're ok," she whispers. "Whath's this?" he slurs, his hand fumbling with the seatbelt. "It's keeping you safe," she says, her voice steady and calm. "Just hold on, ok?" He nods, his eyelid drooping almost immediately. "Whath's...whath's..." he mumbles before falling asleep. Then his head nods forward, jerking back up as he started to doze off. He wakes with a snort, the cotton still lodged in his mouth. Karen laughs softly, reaching over to remove it. "Almost there, sweetie," she says. His eye is glassy, and he nods, his head lolling again. The car hits another bump, and his eye flies open again, wide with panic. "Whe... whath...whath's happening?" he asks, his voice high pitched. "It's ok," Karen repeats, keeping her tone calm and soothing. "We're just driving home. Try to relax." Plankton's eye closes, and for a brief moment, the car is silent except for the purr of the engine. But then he's jolted awake again, his head snapping back with a start. "Whewe awe we?" he asks, his voice slurred. "Almost home, sweetie," Karen says, her voice steady. He nods, his head falling back onto the headrest. The car's movement rocks him like a cradle, and his eye closes with a snore. But the jostle of a turn wakes him up with a start. "Whath's happening?" he mumbles, his eye unfocused. The world outside the window is a blur of colors and shapes. Karen smiles, taking his hand in hers. "Just a turn. We're almost there." Another snore escapes his throat, and his head lolls to the side again. Karen gently shakes him awake. "We're home," she says, her voice a beacon in the fog. He blinks, his vision swimming with sleep. "Whe...whe...whath's that?" he asks, his voice barely a murmur as the car slows to a stop. "Whe...whath's going on?" he asks again. His eye is heavy, and his words are a jumble. With a sigh, she unbuckles his seatbelt and helps him out of the car, his legs still wobbly. The cool breeze slaps his face, and he winces. "Home," he murmurs, his eye half-closed. Karen guides him to the front door, his steps labored. The house is quiet, save for the distant hum of the refrigerator. Inside, she helps him to the couch, where he flops down like a ragdoll, his body heavy with exhaustion. "Whe...whe...whath's that?" he asks again, his head lolling to the side. Karen chuckles softly. "It's our living room, Plankton," she says, placing a pillow under his head, but Plankton barely registers. "Whath's that?" he asks again, his gaze wandering to the TV. It's off, but in his drug-induced haze, it's a source of fascination. Karen sits down beside him, his body a dead weight against the couch cushions. She takes his hand in hers, her thumb tracing circles on his palm. "It's just the TV, honey. You don't need to worry about it." He nods, his head still lolling to the side. "Whe...whath awe we washing?" His question hangs in the air, and she laughs softly. "We're not watching anything. It's off." The TV seems to beckon to him, and he tries to sit up, his body protesting. "Whe...whath's on?" he slurs, his antennae waving sluggishly. "It's not on, Plankton," Karen says, her voice a warm embrace. "Why don't you just rest?" She tucks the throw blanket around his shoulders and reclines the sofa. His eyelid flickers, the struggle between sleep and curiosity evident. The room starts to spin, and Plankton's antennae wave erratically. "I'm... so tiwed," he mumbles, his words a gentle protest. Karen nods, her smile understood. "Sleep, sweetie. I'll be here when you wake up." He nods, his eyelid fluttering closed, and his breathing becomes deep and rhythmic. Karen watches him for a moment, his chest rising and falling with the comfort of a sleeping babe's. Then she gently slides the blanket over him, his snores the only sound piercing the quiet. The room dims as the afternoon sun moves behind the curtains, casting a soft glow across the living room. Plankton's hand, still clutching Karen's, slips to the floor with a thump, and his snores grow louder. Karen chuckles, reaching for it to place it gently on his chest. His breathing is slow and even, his chest rising and falling beneath the blanket. Karen sits for a moment, watching him sleep, her mind racing with all the things she needs to do: prepare his meals, make sure he takes his medicine on time, keep an eye on his swelling. But for now, she's content to just sit and watch him, his features relaxed and peaceful in slumber.

KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 2 (Autistic author) He blinked a few times, his vision clearing slowly. He saw her face, wet with tears, and his own realization dawned. "Oh, Karen," he whispered, his voice filled with remorse. Plankton struggled to sit up, wincing as pain shot through his head. The lab looked the same, but something felt off. The air was charged with an unspoken tension that Plankton couldn't quite put his finger on. He tried to recall the argument, but the details were fuzzy. All he knew was that he'd fallen, and now Karen was apologizing for something she wasn't even at fault for. He looked into her screen, searching for answers. "What happened?" he asked, his voice hoarse. Karen took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she had to say. "You had an accident in the lab," she replied, her voice calm and measured. "You hit your head." But as she watched him, she noticed something else. His movements were stiff, his gaze unfocused. He wasn't quite the same. Karen noticed that his usual vibrant expressions were absent, replaced by a vacant stare. She chalked it up to lightheadedness. "Karen," Plankton began, his voice still slurred. "Karen." He paused, his eye darting around the room as if searching for words. Karen felt a cold knot form. Something was different about him, something she couldn't quite place. His movements were rigid, his gaze unwavering, like he was seeing her but not really seeing her. "What is it?" she asked, trying to keep the worry out of her voice. Plankton's eye finally met hers, but there was no spark of recognition, no mischievous twinkle that she was used to. "Plankton glad to see Karen," he said, his tone flat and unemotional. That wasn't right. "Plankton, do you know where you are?" she asked nervously. Plankton nodded slowly, his gaze still unnaturally focused. "Home," he responded, his voice devoid of the warmth and love she was accustomed to. "The Chum Bucket." Karen's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of the man she knew, but all she found was a distant shadow. Panic began to creep in as the gravity of the situation started to dawn on her. This wasn't just a bump on the head. Something was very wrong. "Do you remember me?" she asked, her voice trembling. Plankton's eye searched her, his expression unchanging. "Karen," he responds correctly. "Wife of Plankton. Computer wife as of July 31, 1999." The words hit Karen like a cold wave. He knew her name, but the way he said it, like he was recounting a fact rather than speaking to his beloved wife, chilled her to the bone. She felt the ground shift beneath her, her world tilting on its axis. "Plankton, what's wrong?" she asked, desperation seeping into her voice. He looked at her, his gaze unblinking. "Wife Karen," he said, his voice robotic. "Irritated with Plankton's lack of attention to anniversary dinner." The words were right, but the emotion, the love, the personality behind them was gone. It was like talking to a stranger, a very tiny, very confused stranger. Karen felt a tear roll down her screen. "Plankton, can you hear me?" she asked, her voice quivering. "I'm not just 'Wife Karen', I'm your Karen. Your partner, your best friend." Plankton's response was a mechanical nod. "Affirmative," he said, his tone unwavering. "Karen is wife. Plankton is husband." The coldness of his words cut through Karen like a knife. Her eyes searched his, desperately trying to find any sign of the man she knew was in there. "Plankton," she said softly, "it's me. It's Karen. Do you understand?" He nodded again, his antennae barely twitching. "Understood," he replied, his voice devoid of inflection. "And Karen is upset?" Karen nodded, trying not to crumble. "Yes, I'm upset," she managed to say, her voice choked with emotion. "But more than that, I'm scared. You're not acting like yourself, Plankton." He blinked, his gaze shifting slightly. "Scared," he echoed, as if trying to understand the concept. "Why Karen scared?" "Because you're not you," Karen managed to whisper, breaking with every robotic response. "You're acting so... different." Plankton tilted his head, trying to process her words. "Different how?" he asked, his voice still lacking any emotional depth. Karen took a deep breath, trying to explain something she didn't fully understand herself. "You're not showing your feelings," she said. "You're not... connecting with me like you usually do." Plankton's face remained a mask of confusion. "Connections," he muttered. "Emotional bonds." He nodded slowly. "Important for relationship. Plankton in love with Karen." Karen felt a flicker of hope. "That's right," she said, her voice gentle. "I know you love me. But you're not showing it, not like before." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly as he processed this new information. "Plankton must adjust behavior to align with Karen's desired emotional output; how?" Karen felt a pang of sadness. He was trying to understand, but his usual charm was nowhere to be found. She took his hand in hers. "Just talk to me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me what you're thinking, what you're feeling." Plankton looked at her, his expression still vacant. "Plankton thinking about Karen," he said, his voice flat. "Plankton feeling determined." Karen's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of the emotion his words conveyed. "Determined to what?" she asked, hopeful. "Determined to what," he echoed. "Karen saying, determined to what. Plankton determined to show Karen love, Karen saying determined to what." Karen realized the depth of his change. This wasn't just a concussion or a temporary loss of memory; it was something much more profound, something that had stripped him of his very essence. "Plankton," she began, her voice shaking, "I don't know what happened to you, but I need you to try. Can you tell me how you feel?" But then he starts to rock back and forth to stim, humming their wedding song. The sight of her husband's usually expressive features now so vacant and his movements so repetitive was alarming. Karen felt a sob rise in her throat, but she pushed it down. She needed to stay strong, for him. "Plankton," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Look at me. I need you to focus. Can you tell me how you feel, in your own words?" He stopped rocking and turned his head to look at her, his eye still distant. "Feelings," he repeated. "Love, anger, sadness, joy. Concepts. Plankton has them. Karen saying, determined to what." Karen's hope sank. The realization was setting in. This wasn't just a case of a bump on the head. Plankton's accident had changed him in a way she didn't fully comprehend. The lab, once filled with the warmth of his passion and dreams, now felt cold and sterile. Her mind raced as she searched for any indication of the man she knew. The way he spoke, the way he moved, it was as if a switch had been flipped. "Plankton, does your head hurt?" "Cephalgia via blunt force trauma. Getting better." He responds, flapping his hands. Karen's eyes widened at his unexpected use of medical terminology. "neurodivergence," she thought to herself. Could it be that her husband had somehow developed something from the fall? It was a long shot, but the lack of emotional connection, the repetitive behaviors, and the rigidity of his speech patterns were all hallmarks of it. She scans his brain and connected herself to the monitor. Plankton looks over and sees the brain scan. "Plankton's brain?" "Yes, Plankton.." Karen says. "Cerebellar cortex reduced synapses and showing minimal activity in the corpus callosum. Irreversibly reduced blood flow in between hemispheric..." "I've no idea what you're saying, honey." Karen interrupts. Plankton's face falls, his usual playfulness replaced by a look of confusion. "Neurotypical communication error," he says, his voice laced with frustration. "Karen, Plankton trying to say the fall caused disruption to myelination.." Karen's eyes widen in shocked confusion. "Myelination? Plankton, are you okay?" she asks, her voice laced with fear. Plankton nods, his gaze fixed on the brain scan. "Neuroplasticity. Synaptic pruning. Autism acquisition," he says, his words coming out in a rush. Karen's mind reels at his diagnosis. Autism? It couldn't be. But as she looks at his rigid body language and his lack of emotional expression, she can't deny it.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 2 (Autistic author) When Karen finally did come to check on him, her digital voice was cool and devoid of emotion. "Plankton, dear, you've been in here for quite some time," she said. "Another fail, huh?" Plankton's tiny shoulders slumped. He couldn't bring himself to explain the chaos in his head. How could he possibly make Karen, his logical, computer wife, understand the tumult of sensations that had overtaken his being? He just nodded. Karen's screen flickered, perhaps processing his lack of enthusiasm as another defeat. "You know what you need," she said, her voice still calm and soothing. "Some good old-fashioned break from scheming." Plankton nodded weakly, unable to argue, which she found unusual. "Why don't you take a walk?" she suggested, her voice a gentle nudge. "Fresh air can do wonders for the mind." Plankton didn't answer. Karen knew better than to push him when he was like this. She had seen his mood swings before, his moments of despair after a failed plan, but this was different. This was something she hadn't seen in her decades of being by his side. "Plankton, are you sure you're okay?" she asked again, her synthetic voice a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions she couldn't understand. He nodded, trying to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. "Sure okay, Karen." Karen's concern grew as she watched him struggle to his feet. It was clear that his usual boundless energy was nowhere to be found. He stumbled out of the bedroom and into the hallway, his steps slow and deliberate. The once-mighty Plankton, reduced to a mere shadow of his former self. As he approached the door of the Chum Bucket, Karen followed, her sensors tuned to his every movement. The usual sounds of their underwater world were amplified, echoing through the narrow corridors like a symphony of chaos. Each step was a battle, each breath a victory. He paused, his hand shaking as it hovered over the handle. "Maybe not today," he murmured, his voice barely audible over his own racing heartbeat. Karen stood silently beside him, her systems trying to comprehend his sudden change in behavior. He had always been so driven, so focused on his goals, but now his eye had a faraway look, as if he was seeing something that she couldn't. "Take your time," she said, her tone softer than ever. "I'll be here when you're ready." Plankton looked up at her. "Take your time," he murmured, echoing Karen's words. "Take your time." She looks at him. "Take your time, take your time, take your time." He repeats aloud back to Karen, who's now even more concerned, her screens flickering with worry. Plankton's voice sounds strange, echoing his own words as if they're coming from someone else, from another time. It's a peculiar behavior, one she's never observed in him before. He walks over to the control room, where his various inventions are lined up like a strange army of metal and wires. Each gizmo and gadget a silent testament to his unyielding quest for the Krabby Patty formula. But now, they seemed like mere toys, overwhelming him with their complexity. The room spins, and Plankton feels like he's drowning in a sea of his own creations. "Take your time, take your time," he whispers, his voice a distant echo in his own mind. He sits down in his chair, his eye glazed over, and repeats the phrase over and over. "Take your time, take your time, take your time." The words become a mantra, a lifeline in the storm of sensory overload. Karen watches from her console, her algorithms racing to understand this new behavior. The phrase rolls off his tongue, a soothing rhythm in the cacophony of his thoughts. "Take your time, take your time." It's as if he's trying to convince his own brain to slow down, to make sense of the world again. The echo of his voice in the metal walls of the Chum Bucket seems to calm him, if only a little. Karen doesn't know what to make of this. Whatever the cause, she knows she must tread carefully. "Plankton," Karen says, trying to connect to his current state, "I'm here for you." He looks at her. "Take your time," he murmurs again. "Plankton I'm here for you." He parrots. Karen's systems whirr, analyzing the change in his language patterns. His usual sharp wit and sarcasm have given way to something more... mechanical. It's as if he's trying to communicate but his words are stuck in a loop, like a broken record. She decides to play along, hoping it might snap him out of it. "Take your time, take your time," she repeats back to him, her digital voice mimicking his tone as closely as possible. For a moment, his eye brightens, as if he's found a familiar rhythm in the chaos. Then, just as quickly, it dims again. "Take your time, take your time," he murmurs, his gaze flicking from one corner of the room to the next. Karen's screens change from concern to confusion. She's observed Plankton's moods and quirks for years, but this is something she can't quite pinpoint. "Take your time, take your time," Plankton whispers again, his voice a strange mix of urgency and defeat. Karen nods, trying to comfort him with her usual efficiency. "Of course," she says, her voice a soft beep in the silence. "I'll always be here for you. Let's eat dinner." But Plankton doesn't move. He just sits there, staring into space, his hand still hovering over the control panel. Karen doesn't understand why he's so upset. To her, it's just another day, another failed attempt at the Krabby Patty formula. But to Plankton, it's like the world has shifted on its axis, leaving his tiny body adrift in a sea of sensations he can't comprehend. "Dinner will be ready soon," she says, trying to bring him back to the present. But Plankton seems lost in his own thoughts, his eye unfocused. So she goes up to him. "Plankton?" she asks, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" He jumps at her touch, his senses on high alert. His hand goes to where she touched him, his opposite hand doing the same to the other shoulder. "Karen," he says slowly, his voice a mechanical whisper. Karen's circuits flicker with confusion. She doesn't understand why he's so on edge, why his reactions are so exaggerated. To her, this is just another setback. "Plankton," she repeats, her hand back on his shoulder. "You need to eat. It'll make you feel better." Karen's touch feels unbearable. He flinches, his skin crawling with the sensation. It's too much. "No," he says, his voice a croak. "No dinner." Karen's screens blink, recalculating her approach. "Okay," she says, her voice even. "But you have to eat something." She pats him gently, but it feels jolting. "No," Plankton whispers, his voice a fragile thread. The slightest touch feels like a thunderclap in his newfound sensory prison. Karen's screens flicker, unsure of what to make of his sudden aversion. "Take your time," she suggests again, hoping the mantra will bring him comfort. But Plankton simply shakes his head, his eye wide as he starts to rock back and forth. Karen watches, her confusion growing. "What is it?" she asks, her voice a soothing hum. "What's wrong?" Plankton's gaze flits around the room, his pupil expanding and contracting as he tries to process everything at once. "Can't...can't explain," he stammers, his voice now a jagged mess of static. Karen's screens light up with analysis, trying to piece together what could have caused this drastic shift in his behavior. Could it be something in the latest Krabby Patty attempt? A side effect of his latest invention? "Plankton," she says, her voice a soft beep, "What happened at the Krusty Krab today?" He looks at her, his expression unreadable. "Mr. Krabs...Plankton Sponge Bob, Plankton. Karen..." He trails off, his eye filling with a sudden despair. It's clear that his usual sharpness has been replaced by a fog of overwhelming sensation.

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⢯⡽⡹⢎⣝⡣⢯⣙⣎⢳⣙⣎⢳⡙⢮⡱⢫⡜⣣⠝⣬⠣⡝⣢⠝⣢⠝⣢⠝⡢⢝⢢⠓⡜⢢⡓⢬⠓⡜⢢⠓⡜⢢⡑⢎⠲⣡⠚⢤⠣⠜⠤⢣⠜⢢⡑⠎⡔⢣⠚⡴⡑⢎⠲⡑⢎⠲⡑⢎⠲⡑⣎⢱⢊⠵⣊⠖⡱⣊⡜⢦⡙⢦⡙⢦⡙⢬⢃⢧⡹⢌⢧⡹⣌⠳⣍⢞⡱⣋⠷ ⡗⡞⣭⢋⡶⣩⣓⠮⣜⣣⠞⣬⢣⡝⡲⣍⠳⡜⣡⠞⡔⡫⣔⢣⠚⡥⢚⠥⣚⠱⣊⠥⡛⣌⠣⡜⣡⢋⡜⣡⢋⡌⢣⠜⠬⡱⣠⣏⣦⣷⣿⢾⢧⣮⣥⣜⡱⠨⣅⠳⢰⠩⣌⠣⡙⣌⢣⡙⣌⢣⡙⢤⠓⣎⠱⣌⢣⠓⡴⢚⠴⣉⠖⡭⢒⢭⠲⣉⢦⢃⣏⢲⡱⢎⡽⣘⢮⡱⣍⢻ ⡟⡼⣒⢏⡖⡳⣬⢛⡴⢣⡛⡴⢣⢞⡱⢎⢣⡝⡰⡍⢎⠵⡨⢖⡹⢌⢣⠚⡤⢓⡌⢲⠱⣨⠱⡘⢤⠒⡜⡰⢊⡔⢣⣮⡷⠿⢋⡉⡄⡬⡡⡍⣈⠄⡹⢍⣛⢷⣤⣋⠔⢣⡐⢣⡑⠦⡑⡒⢌⢆⠩⢆⡹⢄⠳⡌⢦⡙⠴⣉⠖⣩⠚⡔⣋⠦⡛⣌⠶⣉⠦⡓⣬⠓⡼⡱⢎⡵⣊⢗ ⡻⡔⣏⠮⡵⣋⠶⣩⠞⣥⠛⣜⢣⢎⠵⢪⡱⢬⡑⢎⣍⠲⡑⢎⠴⣉⠦⡙⡔⠣⡜⢡⢒⡡⢒⡉⢦⢙⡰⢡⢣⣾⠛⢡⠀⡓⢪⠖⣽⢱⢳⡽⣼⡺⡴⣿⣨⢰⡀⡙⣾⡤⢑⡡⠜⡰⢑⣸⣬⠬⣧⣜⠰⣊⠱⡘⢆⡍⢲⠡⢎⠥⣋⠴⡑⢎⡱⢌⠶⣉⠶⡙⣤⠛⡴⡙⣜⠲⣍⠮ ⢷⡹⢬⢳⡱⣍⠞⣥⠛⡴⢋⡼⢌⢎⡚⢥⢚⠴⣉⠖⣌⢣⡙⡌⢖⣡⣎⣱⣌⠓⡬⢑⡊⢔⠣⡘⢢⠡⢂⣳⠟⡀⠂⣞⡰⣍⡜⡻⡼⢮⡷⣾⣵⣻⣵⡹⣣⢳⡓⣄⠌⢳⣥⣘⠬⣓⢫⡵⣲⣿⣾⣮⠗⣌⠱⣉⠖⣌⠣⡙⣌⠲⡡⢎⡱⢊⡴⢋⠲⡡⢞⡱⢂⠯⠴⡙⣌⠳⣌⠳ ⡧⡝⣎⢧⠳⣌⠯⣔⢫⠜⣣⠜⣊⢦⡙⡬⢎⢲⢡⠚⡤⢣⠜⡼⣽⣯⣿⣿⣼⣻⡶⣧⣜⡠⢃⠜⡄⢣⣡⠟⠀⡱⡜⡖⢧⡚⠼⣷⡟⣯⡿⣷⣻⣽⣞⣷⣃⡾⢧⡏⣠⠔⣫⢥⣗⡾⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡼⡆⢣⠜⡰⠨⡅⡓⠤⢣⡑⠎⡔⢣⠜⣡⠣⡕⢪⢔⠫⡜⢣⡝⡰⢋⡬⣓ ⣳⠹⡜⢦⡛⡴⣩⠲⣉⠞⣤⠛⣌⠦⡓⡜⡌⢦⢣⡙⡔⢃⢎⡷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣾⣖⠋⠉⠀⠀⠆⡱⢡⡝⣬⡓⡽⣿⣹⢿⣽⣿⣿⣻⣿⣯⣟⣾⡟⢚⡵⣫⣟⣾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡏⡔⢌⠒⡱⡈⢥⠙⡢⠜⡱⢌⢃⠞⢤⠓⡌⢇⢎⡱⢎⡱⢌⢳⡉⡖⢥ ⣇⠻⣜⢣⡜⡱⢆⡛⣌⠞⡤⢛⠤⢣⡱⡘⡜⢢⢅⡚⢌⡱⢊⣗⣿⣿⣿⠿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣃⢧⡱⢧⢺⣔⢫⡵⡏⢾⣻⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣩⢖⡯⣞⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠝⢦⠊⡜⢠⠓⡌⣡⠑⢎⠴⡉⣌⠚⡤⢋⡜⡌⢦⡑⢎⡔⣋⠦⡙⡜⢦ ⣎⠳⣌⠧⡸⡑⣎⡱⢜⡊⢖⡩⢎⡱⢢⠱⣌⠣⣒⡘⠆⡔⢃⢟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣶⣟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡝⡧⣏⢼⡲⡝⣧⣟⡿⣷⣿⢿⣯⣷⣿⣳⣽⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣞⡄⠳⡈⢆⠱⡐⢢⠉⢆⢒⡡⢌⢓⡰⢃⡜⡘⢆⡙⢦⠸⡰⣉⠞⣘⠦ ⣎⢳⡘⡲⢅⡳⢂⠷⡘⣌⠧⡘⢦⡑⢣⢃⢆⠳⣠⠣⢍⡘⢂⠾⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣮⢹⠲⡭⢶⣹⣜⣳⣿⣻⣟⡾⣟⣾⣽⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢣⣟⣄⠂⡏⡄⢣⠘⠤⡉⢆⠊⡔⢊⠆⢥⢃⡒⢍⠢⡍⢆⠣⡕⡡⢞⡡⣚ ⡎⡵⣘⡱⢎⠴⣋⠖⡩⢆⢣⡙⠆⡍⢦⡉⢎⡒⠅⣎⠢⢡⠃⡌⢷⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣛⣩⣿⣿⣻⣿⡿⢯⡝⣲⢫⢷⡹⢧⣻⠦⡽⣞⡷⣯⣽⣻⢷⣻⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢘⡼⢋⡼⢡⠘⠤⡉⢆⠱⡈⠜⡠⢃⠎⡒⠬⡘⢬⡑⠜⡌⡓⢬⡑⢎⠴⣡ ⡳⢔⢣⡜⢪⡱⢌⠎⡕⢪⠱⡌⢳⢘⢢⡑⢎⠬⠱⡠⢃⡅⢊⠔⣊⡞⣿⣿⣿⣟⢿⣿⣿⣟⡾⡟⢧⡛⣦⡝⢮⡝⣮⡝⣯⠷⣭⢿⡽⣾⣳⢯⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠅⣇⣹⣞⠐⣂⠑⢢⠑⡌⢢⠑⡌⡰⢁⠎⡱⢨⠑⡆⠜⡱⢌⡱⢢⡙⣌⠲⡡ ⡓⢎⡱⣌⠣⡜⣌⠚⣌⢣⠓⣌⢃⠎⣆⠱⢊⠬⡑⡰⢃⡘⢄⠊⠤⣹⡸⣿⣯⣞⣾⡟⢣⢎⡵⣩⢧⡙⢶⡹⢧⡻⣵⣻⣽⣻⣞⣿⣻⢿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⢼⣿⣿⣞⡷⣦⡉⢄⢊⠰⠁⢎⠰⡁⢎⠰⡁⠦⡉⠴⡉⡔⢃⢆⠣⡜⢤⢣⠱ ⡝⡸⡔⣌⠳⡘⡤⢋⡔⢣⠚⢤⢊⡜⢄⡋⡌⠦⡑⢄⠣⢌⠂⡍⣲⠞⠁⢫⣿⣿⡟⢈⠱⡊⠖⡱⢊⡝⢮⡝⣯⣽⢷⣿⣳⡿⣽⡷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡻⣹⢭⣯⣽⣻⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣧⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⡖⢯⡳⣌⠰⠉⡄⢣⠘⡠⢃⠜⡠⢑⡡⠜⡰⢉⠆⡣⠜⣂⢎⡱ ⢧⡑⢎⡔⢣⡱⢡⠣⡜⢢⡙⢢⢣⢘⢢⠱⣈⠆⡱⢈⠒⡌⢒⡜⠁⠄⢆⡄⢹⠏⣠⠏⠡⣌⠵⣭⢟⣾⣳⣽⣳⢯⣿⣟⣷⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢛⣥⢳⣯⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣶⡝⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣣⢳⡌⢢⡑⠨⠄⢣⠐⡡⢊⠔⡡⢂⠵⡈⠎⠴⢡⡙⡰⢊⡔ ⢦⡙⡬⡘⢥⢊⠥⡓⢬⡁⢎⡱⢂⠣⢆⠣⠔⡘⢄⠣⡘⠄⡟⢀⠸⣈⠖⡀⠠⠂⢡⢦⣷⣮⣗⣮⢻⡽⣿⣻⣽⣿⣳⢿⣯⣿⡾⣿⣿⣿⣟⣯⣿⣷⢿⣘⢮⣞⣿⣿⡿⢿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡸⣿⡷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣏⡷⣿⣂⢳⡁⢊⠄⢣⠐⡡⢊⠔⡡⢂⠥⡙⡘⠤⣑⢡⢣⡘ ⢧⠸⡔⡩⢆⡍⢲⡉⢦⠘⡆⡱⢊⡱⢌⠊⡜⡈⢆⠱⡈⢼⠁⢠⢡⠣⣎⡁⢄⠃⢼⣿⣿⡿⠋⠉⠙⢿⣽⢿⣿⣿⣯⡿⣯⣿⣿⣟⣿⣟⡾⣽⣿⣯⢷⡽⣿⣿⣿⠃⠁⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣅⣿⡽⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢾⣿⣿⡎⣇⢣⠌⡘⣀⠣⡐⢡⠊⡔⢡⠢⡑⢌⡑⠢⢅⠦⡑ ⣎⠱⢬⡑⢎⠬⡑⡌⠦⣙⠰⡡⢃⡔⢊⠜⡠⡑⢌⠢⣁⡟⠊⣌⠦⣙⢦⡕⠈⠀⡸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠻⣻⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⢯⡷⡻⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣽⣿⢜⡆⠔⢠⢂⡑⠢⡑⢌⠢⡑⢌⠢⢌⠓⣌⠲⣉ ⣎⡙⢦⡙⣌⠲⠱⡌⡱⢂⠣⢅⠣⡘⢌⠢⡑⢌⠢⡁⢆⡇⠸⣨⢜⣽⣲⣭⠐⡀⢰⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢤⣿⣽⣻⣿⡿⣯⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣻⠖⣍⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⡿⠿⢋⠐⠌⢢⠐⡌⡑⢌⠢⡑⢌⠢⡑⠬⡘⡄⠳⡄ ⢦⡙⢦⡘⢤⢋⡱⠰⡡⢍⢪⠐⢣⠑⡌⢢⠑⡌⢢⠑⡂⠳⣥⣞⣼⡲⣟⣾⡇⢀⠈⢿⣽⡆⠀⠀⠀⠘⣇⠻⠿⣸⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠏⢿⣟⠿⣣⠟⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⡷⣯⢻⡴⣸⠟⢿⠛⠛⢋⠙⠠⢁⡐⠄⠊⢌⠨⠐⡌⡐⢌⢂⠱⡈⢆⠱⡈⢆⠱⢨⡑⡌ ⢦⠱⢢⡙⢆⠎⡔⢣⢑⡊⢤⠋⣄⠣⡘⢄⠣⡘⢄⠃⡌⡁⠆⠌⡙⢛⠻⠻⡇⡀⠊⢌⡿⣽⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⠖⠃⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠉⠙⠉⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡿⠿⣿⣽⣟⣯⡗⣿⣯⢭⢣⢁⠂⠌⠰⡀⠔⡈⡑⠢⠈⡅⢂⠱⢈⠢⡑⢌⠢⡑⢌⠢⣉⠆⠦⡑ ⣣⠙⢦⡑⢎⡸⢐⡃⠦⣉⠆⡱⣀⠣⡘⢄⠣⡘⢄⠣⡐⢡⠘⡐⠌⡐⠢⢱⠡⢄⠱⢬⠞⠉⠛⠦⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠔⠀⠉⣨⢷⣦⣭⡉⠉⠛⠶⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⡤⠴⣛⠋⢅⠢⠀⢹⣿⣻⢾⣽⣿⣿⡓⣇⢧⠈⢌⡐⠌⢂⠅⠰⢁⠃⡰⢁⠊⡄⢣⠘⡄⢣⠘⡄⢣⡐⠬⡑⡌ ⢦⡙⢦⡘⢆⡱⢊⠜⡰⣁⢚⠰⣀⠣⡘⢄⠣⡘⢄⠢⠑⡂⠅⡒⠌⡐⢡⢺⢘⢬⡒⣻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⣾⣿⣿⣷⣆⠀⢀⡀⠒⠖⣀⣠⡔⡐⣦⢭⣷⣦⠀⣸⣿⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣼⠸⡈⠄⡐⠌⢂⠌⣁⠊⠔⣁⠢⠑⡌⢢⠑⣈⠆⡱⢈⠆⡘⠤⡑⡌ ⢦⡙⢦⡘⢆⡱⢊⠬⡑⠤⣃⠱⣀⠣⡘⢢⠑⡌⢢⢁⠣⠘⡐⢌⠰⡁⠆⣸⠠⣓⢿⣜⢧⠀⣴⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⢣⢞⡤⢄⡱⢈⡴⠳⡜⢎⣵⣾⣿⠟⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⡇⢊⠐⢌⠰⠐⡠⢁⠎⡀⢆⠱⡈⠔⡨⢐⠌⡰⢁⠎⡰⠑⢬⡐ ⢦⡑⢦⡑⠎⡔⣩⠢⡙⡔⢌⢢⠡⢒⠡⢢⠑⡌⠢⢌⠢⢑⠨⠄⡃⠔⡈⠄⣷⢩⣟⣾⣯⡷⡈⠉⠁⠂⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⣴⣿⣧⠬⣝⣯⠽⡖⢭⢐⠣⣘⣥⣾⣿⡿⣻⣩⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡎⡇⢂⠡⢂⢂⠱⡀⠆⣂⠡⢂⡑⠌⢢⠑⡌⢢⠑⡌⢢⠡⣉⠆⡔ ⢦⡙⠴⣈⠳⢨⠔⣡⠱⢌⠒⡤⢃⠥⢊⠅⡊⠔⡡⢂⠱⡈⢄⠃⡜⢠⠡⠘⠸⣝⣮⢷⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣁⢀⠈⢀⠀⠠⢤⣳⣾⣿⣾⣿⣼⣼⣬⣷⡼⠶⢞⠺⣟⣿⣟⣧⣷⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢹⢁⢂⠡⢂⠌⠰⠐⡐⠠⡑⢂⠌⢢⠁⢎⠰⡁⢎⠰⣁⠒⣄⠚⡰ ⡣⢜⡱⢌⡱⢃⡜⠤⢃⢎⡘⢄⠣⡘⢄⠚⠤⡉⠔⡡⢂⡑⠨⡐⠄⡃⠌⡡⠡⠹⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⡻⠷⣶⣭⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⣄⠩⠽⣋⠑⣆⣡⣧⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⡀⢉⠉⠛⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢀⢂⠡⠂⡌⡁⠎⡐⢡⠘⡀⠎⠤⡉⢆⠱⡈⢆⠱⣀⠣⠤⡙⠤ ⡓⣌⠲⡌⢆⢣⡘⠬⢡⠆⣘⠢⡑⢌⠢⡉⢆⠱⡈⠔⡡⢀⠣⢐⡡⠼⢔⣠⡡⢡⡘⢋⠍⡉⢡⠀⣮⠊⠀⠀⡿⣟⣿⣿⡿⠿⢶⣶⣷⣾⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣵⡪⣔⢐⣢⠴⠬⠭⠌⣐⠈⡄⠢⢑⠀⠆⡡⠌⡐⢂⠡⢊⠔⣁⠊⡔⢡⠊⡔⢠⠃⢆⢍⡒ ⡓⣌⠣⡜⢌⡒⠬⡑⡡⠎⣄⠣⡘⢄⠣⡘⢄⠣⡘⠤⢑⣂⣡⠃⠀⠀⠀⠑⢄⠀⠈⠳⡈⠔⣂⠕⠁⠄⣠⣄⡟⣽⡿⠍⠀⠀⡨⡫⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠩⡢⡱⠬⠾⠴⠲⠖⠧⣬⣔⣡⢈⡐⢌⠰⡁⢎⠰⡁⠎⣌⠢⠜ ⡱⢌⡓⡌⢦⠱⢡⠃⠵⡘⢄⠣⡘⢄⠣⡘⢄⣣⠜⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠐⠠⣀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⢹⣖⣥⢐⣡⣎⣾⣿⡹⣾⠃⠀⠀⠈⢴⢃⢿⢸⣯⣿⣿⡩⠯⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⠋⠀⠀⡠⠐⠀⠉⠉⠉⠐⠢⠽⢡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠶⣌⠰⡈⢆⠱⣈⠒⡄⠳⣈ ⡕⢪⠔⡩⢆⢣⠃⣍⢒⡉⠦⡑⢌⠢⡑⡬⠊⠀⠀⠀⡠⡀⠢⡀⡄⠀⠢⣧⠀⠘⣿⣦⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⡷⣷⠀⠊⢁⡀⣢⢎⣞⢿⣿⣿⢎⣄⢛⣮⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⡰⠛⠀⠄⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠲⣄⢂⠠⠄⠀⠀⠀⢀⡰⠋⠤⡑⢌⠒⡄⢣⠘⡱⢄ ⢎⡱⢊⡕⣊⠦⡙⢤⢊⠴⡑⢌⠢⣱⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⣿⣦⢳⠑⠀⠀⣿⣇⠀⣿⣿⠰⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠉⠄⢿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠫⠮⣋⠋⡏⣏⣿⡘⣟⣷⣽⣟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣏⡷⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⡰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⡈⠄⠀⢀⡴⠋⢄⡉⢆⠱⣈⠒⡌⢢⠩⠔⣊ ⡣⢜⡡⢒⠥⡒⠱⡌⢒⢢⠉⡆⣱⠁⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⢠⠼⡟⢻⠂⠀⠐⢻⣿⠧⣿⠏⡽⠛⠛⠩⢁⠂⠡⡈⠌⣿⣧⠀⠄⡔⠑⡣⡻⣽⢹⡼⣿⢿⣿⡿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣣⢱⣿⠀⠀⡠⣊⠁⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣄⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠄⢀⡸⣀⠴⢋⠰⢉⠰⡈⢆⠱⣀⠣⡘⢄⠣⢍⡔ ⠳⣌⠲⣉⠖⡩⡑⣌⢃⠦⢩⡐⠹⡄⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡷⠋⢣⢠⠀⠀⢀⣾⠏⠫⢑⠋⠤⢁⠊⡁⠢⢈⠡⠐⠠⠘⣿⣧⣜⠐⣰⢡⢳⡏⣼⣳⣿⡾⣾⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣏⣿⣿⣄⠚⠁⠐⡄⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⢃⣽⠇⢸⠹⡀⠎⢄⠣⢌⠢⡑⢌⠒⡄⢣⠘⡌⠜⢢⡘ ⡳⢌⡓⡌⢎⠥⣑⠢⢎⢂⠇⡌⠥⢹⡀⠀⠀⠐⣾⡁⠐⠠⢒⣧⣧⡠⡾⢡⠈⢅⠢⢘⠠⢂⠡⡐⠡⠌⡐⠉⠄⠡⠙⣿⣿⣦⣴⣳⢯⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⣀⠿⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⢀⣺⠏⡀⡟⢇⡘⠌⢢⠘⡄⢣⠘⡄⢣⠘⡄⢣⠜⣉⠒⡌ ⡕⡪⢔⡩⢎⠲⣁⢇⠪⢌⡜⢄⠓⡄⢳⡀⣠⡔⣏⠹⢛⣶⠖⢛⠛⡩⢁⠆⣉⠰⠐⣂⠡⠌⢂⠰⢁⠢⠑⠨⠠⢁⠂⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣻⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣮⡿⣀⠐⣮⡟⢤⣹⡝⢠⠂⡍⢢⠑⡌⢢⠑⡌⢢⠱⣘⠰⢊⠴⣉⠖ ⣎⠱⢣⠜⣌⠳⢌⢢⡙⢢⡘⠬⡘⠌⢆⠬⡑⠬⡉⢏⢩⠐⡌⢢⠑⡄⢃⠔⡠⠃⡅⠢⢘⠠⠃⡔⠨⠄⡉⠤⢁⠂⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⠠⢁⠒⡘⠤⣀⠀⠀⣀⡾⠛⠽⠳⢚⠛⡩⢙⠩⢡⠘⡠⠑⡌⢢⠑⡌⢢⠑⡌⢆⢃⠦⣉⠎⡴⠡⢎ ⣎⡙⢦⡙⢤⢋⡜⢢⡑⢣⢌⡱⢡⠋⡔⢢⢑⠢⡑⢌⠢⡑⡈⢆⠱⡈⢆⡘⢄⠣⡐⢡⠊⠔⡡⢂⠑⠌⡐⠢⠐⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠗⠠⠠⠄⠂⡄⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⢈⠒⢨⠐⠤⡉⢍⡉⢄⠣⠌⡑⡈⢆⠡⢊⠰⡁⢎⠰⢡⠘⡄⢣⠘⡄⢣⢘⢂⠎⡴⢁⡚⠴⣉⠖ ⢦⡙⢦⡙⢆⡣⢜⡡⢎⡱⢢⡑⢎⠱⣨⢡⢊⠱⣈⠆⡱⢠⠑⡌⢢⠑⢢⠘⡄⢣⠘⡄⡉⢆⠡⢂⡉⢤⠟⠿⢽⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠈⡐⠡⡈⠔⠠⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣾⠶⢮⠐⡡⢂⠌⢢⠑⡌⠰⡁⢎⠰⡁⢆⠱⡈⢆⠡⢊⠔⡡⢊⠜⡄⣋⠔⡪⢔⠣⡜⡱⢌⢎ ⣇⠺⢤⡙⢦⡙⢦⡑⢎⡔⢣⠜⣌⠱⡐⢆⡡⢃⡒⢬⠐⡅⡊⠔⡡⢊⢄⠣⡘⢄⠣⡐⢡⠂⡅⢢⠐⡼⣁⡸⢖⡶⣽⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⢁⠒⣈⢢⣵⢾⣛⣛⣭⣼⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⣆⠡⢊⠌⢢⠑⡨⠑⡌⢢⠑⡌⢢⠑⡌⢢⠡⢃⡜⠰⣉⠒⡜⣠⢋⠴⡉⢖⡱⡘⡌⢎ ⡎⠵⣃⠞⣤⠙⢦⡙⢦⠸⣡⠚⡤⢣⢍⢢⠱⡡⠚⢤⣉⢒⠡⣃⠒⡡⢊⡔⢡⠊⡔⢡⢂⠱⡈⢆⡩⠷⠦⢭⣭⣾⣭⣟⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡏⢠⠃⠤⠙⣿⣯⠟⠉⠊⣁⣳⢮⣷⣿⣿⣿⣷⠾⣀⠣⡘⢄⢃⡒⢡⡘⢄⠣⡘⡄⢣⠌⡥⢊⠥⢌⡓⢤⢋⡔⢢⢎⠲⣉⠦⡱⡑⢎⡱ ⣍⠳⡜⡜⢢⠛⢦⡙⢆⢳⠰⣉⠖⡡⢎⢆⢣⠱⣉⠖⣐⢊⡱⠤⡙⢰⠡⡘⠤⢃⠜⣠⢊⡴⠓⠉⠀⠀⠀⠁⠨⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠣⢁⠎⡰⢁⠾⣷⣿⣾⡿⢿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠁⠉⠁⠙⠢⣑⢌⡒⠬⣐⢣⢘⠢⣅⠓⡬⢡⠚⡤⢩⠜⡢⢜⢢⠱⣌⠣⣌⠳⣌⠲⣡⠝⡸⡔ ⣎⠳⣍⠞⣥⠛⣦⢹⡘⢎⡱⢎⡜⡱⢊⡜⢢⠓⡬⡘⢤⢃⢆⡓⢬⠡⢎⠱⡘⡌⣆⢷⡻⣜⣳⣮⣔⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡍⡆⢣⠘⡄⢃⠆⣸⣿⢯⠷⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣴⣶⣤⡬⣓⢬⡓⣌⠦⡍⢶⣈⠳⣌⢣⡹⣐⢇⢮⡑⣎⢖⡣⣌⠳⣌⠳⣌⠳⡜⡼⣑⢮ ⣭⠳⣬⢛⡴⣋⣶⣡⢯⣎⣵⢊⢖⡩⢇⢎⠵⣉⠖⣩⠆⡭⢒⡜⢢⡙⣌⣧⣷⣻⣞⣯⣿⡽⣯⣷⢿⣷⣝⢦⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢢⠱⡘⢆⢎⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⣿⢿⣻⢯⣿⣳⣝⢦⠉⠻⣬⣳⡝⡶⣭⣳⢎⣧⣳⡭⣞⡶⣹⣜⡮⣵⣎⢿⣸⢳⣎⡟⣼⡱⣭⠶ ⣖⢫⠖⣭⢲⣽⣗⢻⠯⣽⢪⡿⣆⡓⢎⡎⢼⡘⡬⡑⢎⣒⠣⡜⡥⣻⢿⡽⣞⣷⡿⣽⣾⣿⣽⣾⣿⣻⣿⣿⣧⠀⣀⢦⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡆⢧⡹⣌⢾⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⢤⡟⡻⢞⡿⣽⣻⢷⣻⣟⣯⣷⣆⠈⠻⣿⣟⣷⣯⡿⣷⢯⡿⣽⣻⢷⣯⣟⡾⣞⣯⢷⣻⢮⣽⣳⡽⣧⢿ ⣏⠮⡝⢦⣟⣯⣜⠟⢶⣋⢹⣹⣷⠹⣌⢮⡱⢬⡱⢍⡖⣡⢏⣞⣀⣣⢿⣽⣿⣽⣿⣟⣷⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣼⣻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣷⣾⣾⣿⣧⠀⠀⢰⣿⢧⣱⢋⡙⠃⢏⠻⠽⠾⣽⢻⣾⣷⡄⠸⣟⡾⣵⣻⡽⣯⣟⡷⣯⣟⡾⣽⣻⡽⣞⣯⡟⣿⢞⣷⣻⡽⣫ ⣏⠞⣭⢓⣿⣳⡳⣄⡴⢫⣝⣾⣏⠳⡜⣢⠝⣢⠕⣪⠔⡣⠾⢤⢤⣈⣭⣛⣿⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⢿⠿⣿⢻⢟⡻⣏⢿⡻⣿⣷⣦⣼⢿⢯⣟⣯⣞⡵⣢⢤⣀⣄⣈⣿⣽⣿⣿⣦⢿⣿⣟⡷⣟⣷⣫⣽⢳⣭⢟⡾⣵⡻⣝⣮⠽⣯⢞⣧⢷⡻⣽ ⣝⡺⢥⣋⠶⣹⠯⣷⣟⣷⡽⡳⣌⢳⡱⢥⡚⢥⡚⢥⡚⢥⢛⡬⣛⠿⡻⠿⠿⠿⡟⢿⡛⣟⣛⠻⡙⢏⠯⡹⢍⢫⡙⡬⢓⡬⢱⠎⣎⠳⣌⠳⢎⡵⢊⠶⡱⣃⢮⡙⢶⡲⢧⢤⣀⣀⣈⣁⣁⣀⣀⣠⣤⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⣛⡶⢳⢎⡗⣎⠯⣜⢣⡝⡞⣜⡻⡜⣏⢞⣣⢟⡼ ⡧⣝⢮⡱⣋⢶⡙⡶⣩⢖⡱⢳⣌⠳⡜⢦⣙⢦⡙⢦⡙⣎⠞⣰⢃⡳⣍⢭⡙⡖⢭⡒⠵⡒⣌⠧⣙⢎⠲⣅⠫⢆⡣⢕⡣⠜⡥⢚⠴⣉⠦⣋⠖⡬⡙⣬⠱⢎⢲⡙⢦⡙⡎⢶⡩⡝⡭⣛⠽⣛⠿⡻⢟⠿⣻⢛⡟⢻⡙⡹⢡⠏⡜⢣⡚⡜⡤⣋⢬⢓⡼⢱⢪⠵⡹⡜⢮⡱⢎⡳ ⡷⣭⢶⣩⡓⡧⡝⡖⢧⣚⢭⠳⣬⢳⡙⣦⢋⠶⣩⢧⡙⢦⡛⡴⢋⡴⣊⠶⣩⠜⣣⠜⡣⠝⣤⠛⣔⢪⠱⣌⢣⠓⡜⢢⠱⣉⠖⣩⠒⡥⢚⠤⣋⠴⡑⢦⡙⡌⢦⡙⠦⡑⢮⡑⠲⣍⠲⣉⠞⣌⠲⣉⢎⠖⣡⠞⣌⢣⠜⡥⡓⢎⡙⢦⢓⡼⢰⡍⡲⣍⠶⣩⠞⡼⣱⡙⢦⡝⣣⡝

❍˙𖦹"≂

please dont post gross stuff on here!! kids who are young like probably 9 year olds are just trying to find cute combos. spread the word (≧ヮ≦) also people who are spreading the word, please do not put curse words. its the same example for kids with the gross things but with curse words. thanks love<3 bye!!(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⢀⣠⣤⠴⠶⠚⠛⠉⣹⡇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢦⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⢰⠃⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠰⣌⣧⡆⠀⢷⡀⠀⠀⣄⢳⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣇⠀⠸⡇⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣾⡇⠀⢸⢣⠀⠀⠘⣿⣇⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠘⠀⢠⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠈⢻⡄⠀⢷⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡏⣇⠀⣀⣀⠀⣿⣧⠀⢸⠾⣇⣠⣄⣸⣿⡄⠀⠘⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⢿⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⢳⡀⢸⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⣬⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠙⠻⣽⣀⡏⠀⠙⠃⢹⡙⡿⣷⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠒ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣇⢸⠀⠀⠀⢸⣦⣤⡀⣷⣸⡟⢧⣀⡴⠶⠿⠻⡄⣀⣤⣴⡾⠖⠚⠿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠁⠹⠆⠀⠀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⢸⣀⣼⣿⣼⡆⠀⢀⡘⡇⠀⠀⠹⡟⢷⡜⢉⣠⣠⣠⣀⣤⡿⣛⣥⣶⣾⡿⠛⠿⠿⣶⣦⡤⢹⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⢸⡛⠁⠀⠙⢿⠋⠉⠉⠻⠀⠀⠀⢿⣄⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⢉⢟⣴⡿⠿⠟⢁⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⠻⡇⢸⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣀⣀⣘⣿⡇⠀⢀⣠⣤⣶⣶⣶⣾⣦⡀⠀⠈⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠟⠳⠦⡤⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠇⠀⡇⣼⠀⢰⡀⠀⢹⣇⠀⠀⠀ ⠛⠁⠈⣿⣷⣧⣴⣿⠿⠛⣿⠿⣿⣿⡿⠗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⣠⣴⣶⠿⠿⠿⡷⢛⠕⠷⡄⣧⣿⠀⢸⠀⠀⠸⣿⡄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⣿⢿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠈⠳⠤⠶⠃⠀⠀⢰⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⠟⣱⠒⡠⢆⡴⣣⣯⢞⣴⡟⢿⡄⡏⠀⠀⠀⡏⢷⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⡌⣿⠀⠙⣿⡦⢀⣤⡴⣶⠖⣲⠆⢀⠞⠁⠱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣾⠟⠛⡡⠞⠁⢀⡴⢋⢎⣽⡿⣫⠋⠀⠘⢷⠃⡄⠀⠀⡇⠈⣿⡀ ⠀⠀⣇⢹⣦⠀⠼⢃⡾⢋⣶⢃⡼⣹⡳⠃⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠠⠋⠀⡰⠋⠀⢘⣇⡇⠀⢠⠟⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡵ ⠀⠀⢻⣌⢿⡆⠀⡝⣼⠟⣩⢏⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⣠⠏⣠⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷ ⡀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣷⠆⢠⠏⡴⠃⡡⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⠤⠔⠒⠤⣄⣀⠀⠀⢀⣰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡾⠗⠋⢰⠏⡇⠀⠀⠘⠀⠰⢻ ⣇⠀⠘⣿⣿⣟⠻⣄⡞⠀⠐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⣩⣤⣶⣶⣾⣷⣶⣬⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⡆⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠹⡄⠀⠹⣿⣿⡄⠀⠉⠉⠀⡀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣾⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣇⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⢦⣀⠘⢿⣷⡀⠀⠀⡀⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⠏⠙⢻⣿⡿⠛⠉⠀⠸⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⡀ ⢼⣿⠀⠈⢳⣤⣉⣻⣤⣀⣉⣩⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡿⠀⠀⠈⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⠂⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⡿⢿⡄⠀⣧⠀⠀⠹ ⣾⠃⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⢠⠴⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⣧⣀⠧⣰⣻⢄⠀⠀ ⠛⠶⢾⣿⣽⣭⣽⣭⢹⣷⠀⢹⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⣸⡀⠀⠀⠁⣰⣧⣽⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⡟⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⢠⣿⣧⡸⣷⣄ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⣾⣿⣿⣷⣦⣀⠀⢇⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⣠⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠏⣼⣿⠏⣷⡈⠉ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⡆⠀⠀⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠞⠛⣛⣿⡿⠿⠛⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⡿⠂⠈⠻⡄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢎⠉⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣇⠠⠸⣇⣀⣤⣴⣾⡭⠶⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠘ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣳⠀⣿⠛⠻⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

petition to make this an app!! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

eძ🇵🇰🇨ℹℊ🇾🇫|ﾒ🇧♭ɞʟﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ꑭ📧✘𐙚✞αТ🇺⩜⃝🤍ྀི⩇⩇:⩇⩇𝓹𝓗𖤐⋆.˚༯★ރ⁴⁴⁴🧸ྀི♱❥ㅤᵕ̈✮ᡣ𐭩ּྀིྀིྀི ֶָ֢.╰ƒ୨ৎ✗⌞𝒥Nྀི⨈𝕏 ⓘ€✓₅₅₅ω☰‹𝟹Ｙ❗𝓛𝓲𝓼𝓪🇼^᪲᪲᪲ɢ🇪𝔼ಇ.⋆⭒˚.⋆༒︎Ø/\/☾🧸┃࣪ ִֶָ☾.𓆩❤︎𓆪𝓼+𝓭𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃ᰔᩚ𝒟ℯ𝒶𝓇❛ԼƠƔЄ❜ ❥♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑀𝒾 𝒜𝓂𝑜𝓇𓆰〇𝚁ᴇᴏ𓆪⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ℐ𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 <3‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ🫀ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ☆ 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖉𝖘 ☆𝑒🇪୧𝒾𝐫🇸🇷🇦ྀི🇱🇮⚬ֶָ֢𓎆𝘓🇹🇻ɪ፝֟𝑬℮𝔼꒰𝓐𝑳𝓙ᡣ𐭩ᥫ᭡𝓜Ʀ🇳١٥٧٤♡𝓐ᥫ᭡.♛✰ꨄ︎𝓑𝐌𝛂nྀི🆂ᥫ᭡.☪︎ꪗ♡ᯓᡣ𐭩☻ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི𝖆𝐕❦.ᐟ౨ৎ<𝟑𝒦🇭𝜗𝜚†ᯓ ᡣ𐭩❀🇲☆И𖦹🇬ᯓ★🇩♰⋆𖹭𑁤🇴ℋ❤︎ʚɞᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✮⋆˙🅰Ея ꫂ ၴႅၴ𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖚𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎EMINƎMℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝒆☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾!-1 waitfor delay '0:0:15' --

ദ്ദി（• ˕ •マ.ᐟMe❤️(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

༘⋆✿🪐༘⋆⋆｡°✩ 𐙚

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⠀⣭⢻⡼⣭⢳⡝⣮⢳⡭⣏⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢧⡻⣜⢮⡳⣝⢮⡳⣝⢮⡳⣭⢳⡭⢯⡝⣮⠽⣭⢳⡭⢯⡽⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣴⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣉⠁⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣬⣛⣦⢻⣬⢳⡝⣮⢳⣭⢻⠼⣹⣽⠀ ⣳⢏⡾⣱⠿⣜⢧⣻⢼⣹⢎⣷⡹⣎⣷⡹⣎⣷⣹⣎⣷⡹⢮⣳⡝⣮⢷⡹⣎⣷⡹⣮⠷⣭⣳⢽⣣⢟⡼⣛⡾⣳⣽⣣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⣉⣭⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠛⠛⠙⠋⠍⡬⣈⢁⡉⡉⠙⠻⠿⢿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣹⢎⡷⣚⣧⠿⣜⡷⣎⢯⣳⢳⣮⠁ ⡟⣮⢳⣟⢿⡹⣎⢷⣫⡽⣞⢶⡻⣵⣚⢷⡹⣎⠷⣎⢷⡻⣭⢳⣏⢷⣫⢷⣛⡶⣻⢵⡻⣖⣻⢮⡗⣯⢻⣭⢷⡳⣾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠉⠀⢀⣶⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⣷⣶⣤⡀⠀⡀⠀⠉⠉⠳⢷⣦⣄⡀⠈⠙⠻⢿⣿⣷⣶⣀⠡⠀⢄⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢫⢞⡵⣺⢽⡹⣞⣭⡳⣭⡳⢯⡁ ⣝⢮⡳⣞⢧⡻⣜⢧⡳⣝⢮⡳⣝⢶⡹⣎⠷⣭⢻⡜⣧⢻⣜⡳⣎⢷⡹⢶⡹⣞⣵⣫⢷⡹⢮⢷⣹⢞⡧⣟⢾⣝⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⣠⣶⣿⡿⠋⠘⣿⣧⠀⠀⢈⠤⠉⠎⠠⠐⠆⠀⡀⠄⠙⠻⢿⣷⣤⡀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣷⣆⡀⠈⡘⠻⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⣖⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣮⢳⡝⢾⡹⣝⠶⣝⢶⣛⢿⠀ ⡞⣧⣻⣾⣧⣻⣜⣧⣛⣞⣷⣹⣮⣳⣝⣮⣻⣜⣧⣻⣜⣷⣎⣷⣹⣮⣝⣷⣻⣾⡶⣙⢮⡽⣛⣮⢳⢯⣝⣯⣟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣣⣾⣿⠿⣻⣿⠃⠀⠁⠛⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠁⡈⢀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⣿⣷⣆⡀⠂⠀⠀⢈⣙⣿⣿⣶⣾⣷⣻⣿⣿⣟⡛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣫⣾⢿⡝⣮⢻⡜⣧⣛⢾⠁ ⣻⡜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡝⣮⢳⡽⣺⡝⣮⣛⡶⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠩⢴⣿⣿⠀⠀⡀⠀⠹⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠤⢻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠻⠉⠉⢙⣷⣿⠋⠉⢿⣷⡄⠀⠉⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⣽⣿⡽⣜⢧⣛⠶⣝⣮⠁ ⣏⠷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡱⣏⢾⣱⣏⠷⣭⣛⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠍⠒⣠⣼⣿⣟⠀⠀⠁⡀⠀⠹⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣄⡀⠘⢿⣷⣀⠀⠄⠦⢬⠽⠻⠟⠋⢫⡁⠲⣿⣿⢧⡻⣜⡻⢶⣹⢽⠂ ⢾⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠍⣿⣿⣏⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡱⣏⢾⣱⢞⡻⢶⡹⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡛⢁⠊⣁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣷⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣦⠄⢠⣼⣿⡿⠋⠉⢻⣷⣤⡈⢻⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣱⣿⣯⡳⣝⢮⡝⣧⣛⢾⠀ ⡷⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠎⣿⣿⣏⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡱⣏⠾⣭⢯⡝⣧⢻⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡇⠀⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⢿⣿⣆⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⠿⠿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣦⣷⣶⣾⣿⠟⢩⣤⣿⣿⡟⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣦⣽⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⡀⣌⣷⣿⣿⣷⡽⣹⢮⡝⣶⡹⢮⠁ ⣳⢧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢿⣿⣿⢾⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢵⡫⣟⣼⡻⣜⣧⡻⣜⡿⣿⣿⣿⠋⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣶⢢⣮⣄⡀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠈⠙⠛⠻⠛⢫⣵⣾⣿⣿⣵⣾⣿⠿⠛⠛⠿⠿⣷⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣙⣯⣿⣿⣧⣤⣤⣦⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡹⢶⡹⢶⡹⢯⠀ ⢧⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢣⡟⣼⢲⣟⡵⣺⠵⣯⣿⣿⡿⢗⣾⣿⣿⡟⣸⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡘⠛⢿⣿⣶⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⡋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⣟⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡹⢧⣛⢧⡻⣽⠀ ⣳⢎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡳⣝⢮⣻⢼⡳⣭⠿⣽⣿⡟⣵⣾⣿⣿⠏⢰⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⣈⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣄⠘⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡝⣧⣛⢮⡳⢧⠂ ⣝⢮⡳⣭⢞⡵⣫⢞⡵⣫⢞⡵⣫⢞⡵⣫⢞⡵⣫⢞⡵⣫⢷⡹⢏⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⡳⣝⢮⡳⣽⢎⣳⢭⢿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⣾⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣬⣉⣙⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣹⣿⣿⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⢿⢋⠉⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣲⡝⣮⡝⣯⠀ ⣮⢳⡝⣎⠿⣜⣧⡻⣜⣧⡟⣼⢧⡻⡼⢧⡻⣼⢧⣛⡾⣵⢫⡟⡽⣺⢽⣫⢿⣿⡟⡿⣎⡽⣣⢟⡼⣫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⢰⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠉⠿⣿⣷⣮⡽⢿⣿⣟⡋⠛⠙⠋⠙⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠒⠯⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡼⣓⢾⣱⣛⠶⡁ ⢮⡳⣝⢯⣟⡳⣎⢷⡹⣖⡻⣼⢣⡟⣽⢫⢷⡹⣞⡵⣫⣽⢣⢟⣵⢣⡟⣼⢳⢮⣽⡳⡽⣸⢧⢻⡜⣿⣿⣷⣿⡿⣿⣿⠁⠀⢾⡿⠁⠀⠀⢀⠐⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠈⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⠀⠀⠐⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⠿⣿⣷⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⠀⢆⡀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠊⠙⠻⠿⠿⠿⢿⡾⢳⣎⣟⠀ ⣏⠷⣭⣻⡼⣳⠽⣎⢷⣹⢳⣭⢳⡝⣮⣛⢮⣳⡝⣾⡱⣏⡟⡾⣜⢧⣻⣼⣹⣾⣱⣟⣷⣽⣎⢷⡹⢾⣿⣟⢮⣽⣿⣟⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢿⣿⣶⣦⣀⠄⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⣲⣶⠿⣭⢛⣳⣚⡼⠁ ⡞⣽⢲⢷⡹⣧⢟⣮⢳⣭⡗⣾⡹⣞⡵⣫⢞⡵⣛⡶⣻⢼⣹⣓⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⢷⣹⣻⣿⣯⢳⣻⣿⡿⢀⠀⣾⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡅⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣴⣦⣶⣦⣶⣼⣿⣿⡿⡿⣭⢻⣜⣯⠳⣭⢿⠁ ⡽⣎⡟⣮⢟⡼⣫⢞⡽⣲⢽⣲⢻⣜⡳⣏⡟⣾⣹⢳⢯⡳⢧⣛⢾⣿⣧⡤⠙⣿⣿⡄⣿⣿⣏⠾⣥⢿⣿⢧⡻⣽⣿⣿⠀⠈⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢌⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡻⣟⣿⣿⣿⣵⣯⡟⠊⣾⡹⢮⣽⠀ ⡳⣝⡺⣵⣫⢷⣫⢟⡼⣫⠷⣭⢗⣮⢳⡽⣺⢵⣫⠟⣮⣝⡳⣎⣷⡹⢿⣿⣾⣭⣋⣴⣿⣿⡞⣽⣮⣿⣛⣶⣹⣽⣿⣿⡄⠂⢻⣿⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⢿⢿⣿⡇⠹⠻⠳⠾⠟⠛⠩⠁⠀⣼⣷⣹⢳⢮⠁ ⣝⢮⡳⢧⣛⣮⢗⡯⣞⢷⡻⣜⢯⠞⣽⢺⡵⣫⢞⡽⣶⣭⣳⣝⢶⣹⢫⡽⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢽⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⢿⣿⣎⣀⠀⠁⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣀⢀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⢈⠀⠄⡈⠘⣾⣿⣧⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠄⢀⣰⣿⡟⣧⢏⡟⣾⠁ ⡞⣧⢻⡭⢷⣚⢯⡞⣽⡺⣽⣹⣎⠿⣜⢧⣳⣽⣾⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⡧⣏⢷⡹⢧⣏⢾⡹⣎⢷⣫⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⣿⣷⡀⠈⢻⣿⣾⣆⠐⠠⢙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⣀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠈⠀⡀⢂⢠⣿⣿⣿⣇⠠⣀⣁⣈⠶⣸⣿⣿⢫⡞⣵⢫⡞⣽⠂ ⣝⢮⡳⣽⢳⣏⠷⣽⢺⡵⣣⠷⣾⡹⣎⢧⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡾⣭⣛⢷⢪⢷⡹⣎⠷⣎⡷⣫⣿⣿⣄⡄⠐⠀⡀⠉⣿⣿⣤⣂⡙⣿⣿⣷⣦⣜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣄⣐⣈⣀⣁⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⣓⢢⣴⣬⣿⣿⢻⡜⢧⣻⡜⣧⢻⣼⠁ ⢮⡳⣝⣮⢗⡮⣟⡼⣣⢟⡵⣛⣶⡹⡞⣽⣿⣏⣙⣥⣤⣥⣿⣿⣿⡗⣧⣛⢮⡻⣜⣳⣭⢻⣜⡳⣇⢾⣻⣿⣿⣶⠤⣄⠄⣸⣿⣿⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠉⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣶⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⠫⠉⢉⠉⠉⠉⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⠿⢿⣿⣭⣷⣿⣿⣟⡼⣋⡞⣯⣳⡝⣮⢳⢯⠃ ⣏⢷⡹⣎⢯⣝⢮⡳⣝⢯⡞⣝⠶⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠛⠙⣿⣿⣿⣟⡲⣝⢮⣳⡝⡶⣭⢳⡞⣽⢺⣝⡶⣿⣿⣿⣶⣭⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣶⣬⡙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣯⡀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠛⢿⣷⣶⣤⣤⢒⣶⠶⠿⠛⡉⢋⡉⣙⣉⣤⣤⣤⣉⠁⣰⣿⣿⠏⠁⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢋⠡⠀⠄⢈⠛⢋⣻⣝⢯⡝⣧⣛⢷⡹⣞⡵⣫⢿⡁ ⢮⡳⡽⣭⡳⣞⢧⡻⣜⢧⡻⣼⣿⣿⠿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⣿⣿⣿⢎⣷⢫⡞⣵⢫⡗⣯⢳⡽⣞⢧⡻⣜⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⢋⠑⡀⠡⢈⠛⠻⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣀⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠐⠀⢀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣻⢶⣦⣶⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⡹⣞⡼⢶⡭⣏⡷⣹⢞⡵⣻⠄ ⢷⡹⣳⢧⢿⡜⣧⢻⡜⣧⣻⣿⣿⣯⠀⠀⠀⡀⠄⣠⣼⣿⣿⢏⡷⢫⡞⣧⣛⣮⢳⡝⣮⢳⡽⣎⢷⡹⣞⡼⣻⣿⣷⣦⣀⣄⣐⣠⣀⠆⡐⣀⣹⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠃⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣛⠿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡿⣭⢳⣎⡗⣧⢻⢧⡻⣜⣳⡝⣮⢽⣹⠂ ⢷⡹⢧⣛⢮⣝⢮⣳⣹⣿⣿⠋⠻⣿⣧⣔⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⢿⡹⢮⣝⡳⣽⢲⡝⣮⢳⡽⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⢶⡹⢧⣏⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣯⣾⣿⣿⡿⣭⢯⠷⣮⣽⣿⣿⣿⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠠⣀⣰⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣼⣹⢮⡝⣞⡳⢯⡳⣝⢮⣳⢻⠄ ⣧⢻⡵⣫⢞⣬⡷⠷⣿⡿⡷⣤⣤⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⡿⣭⢳⢮⡝⣞⢧⡻⣵⢫⡞⡽⣎⢷⡹⢮⡝⣧⢻⡹⣎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡟⣾⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣷⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡶⣝⢮⣝⣳⢻⡜⣧⢏⡿⠀ ⣎⠷⣭⢳⣾⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡻⣜⢯⢾⡹⢮⡳⣝⢮⡳⡽⢳⡹⢮⡝⣧⠿⣜⢧⣛⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣼⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣬⣤⡀⣀⢋⢛⡠⣐⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⡳⣝⠾⡼⣭⡳⣝⢮⣻⢼⡁ ⣏⠿⣜⠏⠸⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⢿⣻⠽⣿⣿⡷⣭⢻⢮⡝⣯⢳⡝⣮⣵⣯⣷⣯⡳⣝⢮⡻⣜⢧⢏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⢭⡳⣭⢻⡵⣳⢽⢮⡳⣽⢺⠀ ⣞⡿⠁⠀⠀⠙⢋⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠮⣵⣻⣿⣿⢞⡵⣫⢞⡵⣋⣷⣾⡿⠿⠛⢿⣿⣟⣮⢳⡝⡮⢏⡞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣵⢫⢷⡹⣎⡟⣮⢳⡭⢿⡀ ⣻⣿⣧⣤⣀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣏⢷⡺⣜⡽⣿⣿⣝⣲⣿⣿⣿⣿⡞⣵⢫⣞⣿⣿⠏⠁⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣎⢷⣹⡹⣏⢾⡵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣏⠷⣎⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣜⡽⣎⢷⡹⢯⠄ ⣽⡋⠙⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⢵⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⢻⣿⣟⡼⣳⣾⣿⠋⠀⠀⡀⠀⣼⣿⡷⣏⢾⡱⢯⣜⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡿⣼⠛⡜⠣⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⡹⣞⠽⣎⠿⣝⠂ ⣿⣷⠀⠀⠠⡹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣯⢞⣵⣿⣇⠀⠂⠁⠀⣲⣿⣿⡝⣮⢳⣽⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠌⠘⠀⠂⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡹⢮⡵⣫⢟⡼⣻⢽⡁ ⢿⣿⡃⠀⠀⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⣿⣿⣾⡿⢿⣿⣆⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⡻⣜⢧⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⡀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡹⢮⡝⣯⢾⡽⢮⣳⢏⣿⠀ ⣏⣿⣷⣤⣰⣾⣿⣿⡟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠄⠘⢀⠢⢐⠀⠀⢸⣿⡟⠋⠀⠘⢿⣿⣶⣼⣿⣿⣟⡳⣝⠾⣜⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠋⠀⢸⣿⠁⠀⢠⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡹⣇⠿⣜⣯⣞⢷⡹⣞⣽⠁ ⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠈⠐⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢦⣻⣿⣿⡿⣝⢮⡳⣭⡟⣮⡝⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⡀⠀⠈⠃⠀⠘⠤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣭⣛⡼⢳⣎⢷⡹⣞⡼⡁ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠌⠐⠀⠁⠂⠀⠀⠁⠂⠀⠀⢺⣿⡇⠀⢀⣾⣷⣿⡿⣏⡳⣝⢾⡹⢧⡻⣕⡻⣴⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠉⠿⢿⣧⠄⡁⠠⢘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡶⣝⢞⡳⣎⢷⡳⢮⣵⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⡯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢀⠂⠈⢀⠐⠈⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣧⣴⣿⣿⣿⣟⡳⣭⢳⣏⣯⢽⡳⡽⣎⢷⣩⢷⡚⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢡⡀⢰⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣷⠿⠷⢿⣗⢮⡁ ⣿⣿⣿⡗⠀⠀⠂⠀⠐⠀⡀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡾⣵⢫⣗⡾⣱⢏⡷⡽⡜⣧⢻⡼⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠀⠀⡀⢀⣶⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣋⡁⠀⢀⡀⢻⣿⣺⠀ ⡿⣽⣿⣯⠀⠀⠁⠀⠈⠀⠁⠠⠀⠀⣀⣐⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣜⡳⢮⣝⢧⣛⢾⣱⢻⡜⣧⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⢋⣩⣿⡿⠛⠉⠛⢻⣿⣦⣿⣿⣳⠀ ⡟⣼⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣿⣿⠿⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠡⠙⠻⣿⣿⡽⣳⢎⡿⣜⡧⣏⢷⡺⣵⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⢲⣧⣿⣿⠉⠤⡁⣘⣥⡂⢩⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⣳⢭⣻⣿⣧⡄⠀⠀⢀⣰⣾⣿⣿⣿⣏⡤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠋⠄⢂⠂⡄⢻⣿⣗⢯⡞⣵⣫⠷⣝⢮⡳⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠋⠁⣀⢀⣾⣿⣟⡉⢴⣦⡥⠹⣿⣷⡌⢹⣿⣿⣿⡆ ⡽⣲⢳⡞⣿⣿⣧⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣍⣢⠐⠠⠄⣿⣿⣿⣞⡼⣣⢏⡿⡜⣧⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢡⠐⣈⣵⣾⣿⣟⣿⣿⣆⠈⣿⣿⠃⠌⢋⢔⣿⡿⢉⢻⣿ ⢷⣭⢳⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣷⣿⣿⠛⢿⣿⡶⣭⢻⡴⣻⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠃⡌⣤⣾⣿⢿⣿⣿⡿⢃⠜⣿⣷⣤⣣⣌⣲⣥⣾⣿⣇⢦⣽⣿ ⡷⣎⢿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣾⣧⣿⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠔⣡⣾⡿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣋⡾⢟⡈⢘⠛⠛⠻⣿⠿⣿⣯⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡷⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠰⢈⠒⡈⠄⡙⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣣⢌⣽⣾⣿⢟⣥⠟⣩⡶⠏⠒⡀⢆⣡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣳⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣟⣧⢆⠐⡈⠄⠱⣈⣴⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠉⢉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⢞⣡⡿⠛⠠⢌⣠⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢧⡝⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣔⣬⣵⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠠⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣀⢊⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠑⡾⠉⢄⢣⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢯⡼⣳⢝⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⡐⠠⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠠⠀⣍⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣗⡳⣝⢮⡳⣽⢻⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣛⢟⣿⣷⣦⡀⠈⠀⠀⠐⠀⠐⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢏⣿⣿⡇⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣎⢷⡹⣎⡷⣭⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⢺⡵⢎⣟⡲⣝⢿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠄⠁⠂⡁⢀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⡻⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢮⡳⣝⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣻⣿⣿⣧⡞⢯⢶⡹⣎⠷⣛⣿⣿⣦⣀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⡷⣹⢞⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣏⢷⣹⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣜⢧⣏⡽⣿⣿⣯⣶⣙⢮⣝⢳⠮⣝⢿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡳⣝⢮⣳⣱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣾⡹⢮⣽⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣽⢢⢏⠷⣭⣛⢿⣿⣾⣷⣎⠯⣝⢮⡳⣞⣻⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⣹⢎⡷⣣⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣷⣹⢳⣾⣿⣿⢿⡱⣏⣾⢏⣾⡱⢧⣛⠾⣜⠿⡿⣿⣿⣼⢣⡟⡼⣱⢎⡿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢎⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣱⢏⡾⣱⠳⣯⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡟⡧⣿⣿⣿⡟⣯⢳⡝⣮⢻⡴⣿⢡⣛⢮⡝⣯⢳⡻⢿⣿⣿⣾⣵⢫⣞⡱⢯⡝⣿⣿⣧⣀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣱⣏⢾⡱⣏⠷⣭⣛⢿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠛⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣝⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣜⣧⢟⣼⢣⣟⡼⣋⢾⡱⢯⣱⢏⡶⣛⠿⣿⣿⣾⣝⣧⣛⢶⡹⣿⣿⣧⣄⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢯⡳⣝⢮⣛⣶⣽⣾⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣷⣭⣳⡽⣣⣏⡾⣱⢏⡿⣱⢏⡿⢿⣿⣿⣮⣷⣧⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡳⣝⣾⣽⣿⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⠱⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣷⡹⣾⣿⠿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣷⣮⣷⣯⣞⡵⣫⢻⣜⡳⣎⣟⡻⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣏⣷⣽⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠁⠄⠂⠌⠀⠀⣀⣼⣿⡟⡧⣿⣿⢻⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢟⡵⣫⢾⡱⣏⢾⡹⢧⡻⣝⡻⢿⣿⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⢃⠐⠠⠀⢀⣰⣾⡿⢿⣹⣱⣿⣿⢯⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⢉⡙⡛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣝⢮⢷⡹⣧⠿⣼⡳⣏⡷⣝⡮⣝⡻⣜⢯⣳⣹⣿⣿⣿⢯⣛⡾⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣶⣿⡟⣽⢫⣶⣿⣯⡝⣮⠁ ⣿⣿⡟⡠⠑⣌⠱⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡹⣞⡻⣞⣳⣭⣛⠶⣏⣷⣹⢮⡽⣶⡹⣭⢞⡵⣳⣿⣿⣯⢳⡽⣜⣳⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⢀⠂⠀⠀⠐⠠⠀⠠⠀⢀⣲⣿⡿⢯⡽⢎⣿⣿⡟⣶⡹⢶⡁ ⣿⣿⠇⣡⠃⡔⠣⢀⠠⢀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢉⢛⣿⣿⡷⣹⠶⣹⡳⣝⢶⣫⢟⣮⢳⡽⣎⢷⣳⢻⡜⣏⢾⣱⣿⣿⣯⢳⡞⣵⡻⢮⣝⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠐⠰⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡿⢯⣝⢳⣚⣿⣿⢷⡹⢶⣹⣳⠆ ⣿⠷⣈⠴⣉⠖⡁⠀⢀⠂⠌⠐⠀⠀⢀⠣⠌⣼⣿⣿⡜⣧⣛⡷⣽⢺⣝⣮⢻⡼⢧⣻⠼⣧⣻⢧⣻⡜⣧⢻⣿⣿⣯⢳⡝⣾⢽⡳⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠂⠄⠀⠂⠀⢤⣾⠿⣥⢫⡗⣮⣳⣿⣟⣮⢳⡝⣧⢳⣽⠁ ⡿⢁⠆⠳⣌⠐⠀⢀⠠⢈⠀⠠⠀⠀⠌⠂⣵⣿⣿⢷⣹⢣⣟⡼⢧⣻⢼⣎⡷⣹⢧⣏⡟⣶⣹⢮⡳⣝⢮⣻⣿⣿⣯⡳⣽⣹⢮⡳⣝⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⢻⡭⣻⡜⣳⢎⣷⣿⣏⡞⣶⢫⡞⣵⢫⢾⡁ ⡥⢋⡜⡱⠌⠀⠂⡀⢂⠀⠀⠐⠀⠐⡬⢡⣿⣿⣟⣣⢏⡿⣸⡝⣯⢳⣏⠾⣵⣛⠾⣼⣹⢎⡷⣫⢗⣯⢳⣽⣿⣿⡷⣹⡖⣯⡻⣵⢫⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⠀⠀⠀⡐⡼⢿⣭⢳⡝⣥⢟⣱⣿⣟⡿⣸⢽⣎⡿⣜⢧⣟⣻⠄ ⣑⠣⢆⡕⠃⠌⡀⠐⠠⠀⠀⠀⠠⣘⡴⣹⣿⡿⣜⣣⢟⡼⣣⡟⣧⢟⣞⡻⢶⡭⣟⠶⣏⡾⣳⢽⣚⣮⢳⣾⣿⣿⣏⡷⣹⢖⡿⣜⢯⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣱⢿⣹⢳⣎⢷⡹⣎⣽⣿⡻⣼⢱⢯⢾⣜⣳⢽⡺⡼⣽⠂ ⢣⡙⢦⡘⢀⠂⠄⡁⠂⠀⠀⠀⢴⡹⣜⣿⣿⢻⡜⣧⢟⣳⢧⣻⡜⣯⢞⡽⣣⢿⣜⡻⣵⢫⡗⣯⠞⣵⣫⣾⣿⣿⡟⣼⢣⣯⢷⡹⣞⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⠷⣓⢮⢧⣳⣿⣛⠶⣝⢮⣛⢮⡻⣜⣧⢏⡷⣻⢽⡁ ⢣⠜⢢⠁⠌⢀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣏⡷⣿⣿⢯⡳⣝⡞⣯⢳⣏⢶⡻⣜⢯⡞⣽⢺⡼⣹⢧⢯⡝⣮⢻⡜⣧⣿⣿⣿⡝⣮⢳⡞⣧⡟⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡟⣬⢏⣶⡟⡶⣭⢻⡜⣧⢻⣎⡷⣝⣮⢻⡜⣧⢿⡀ ⢣⡚⢅⡈⠒⠠⠈⠄⠀⠀⢂⠱⢯⣹⣿⡿⢧⡻⣼⡹⣞⢷⣚⢯⡳⣝⢾⡹⣞⢧⡻⣵⢫⡞⣽⣚⡧⣟⢶⣿⣿⣯⡝⣮⢳⣏⣿⢽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣴⣿⢻⣜⡳⣝⣮⢻⡼⣳⢎⡷⣫⢞⢧⡻⣜⣯⠄ ⢣⠞⠠⢠⠑⠠⠁⠀⠀⢀⠢⣍⢲⣿⣿⣟⣣⢟⡵⣻⢼⣣⢯⣳⡽⣎⡷⣻⢼⣫⢷⡭⣷⢻⡼⢧⡻⣬⢻⣿⣿⣷⡹⣎⢷⡺⣼⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢏⡷⢮⣝⡳⢮⢷⡹⢧⡻⣼⢳⣏⢾⡱⣏⢾⡀ ⣇⠊⡁⠆⡉⠄⠁⠀⠀⢤⡓⡜⣾⣿⡿⡜⣧⢾⡹⢧⣻⣜⡳⣧⢻⣜⣳⡝⣞⡧⣟⢾⡱⣯⡝⣧⣛⢶⣻⣿⣿⢧⡻⣜⢧⣻⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡮⣝⠾⣜⢯⣛⢮⡽⣳⡝⣮⢗⣮⢳⡝⣾⣹⠄ ⠌⡂⢅⠒⡜⠠⠀⠀⢌⠲⡍⣴⣿⣿⢳⡝⣮⢳⡟⣧⢟⡼⣝⡳⣏⢾⣱⢻⡝⣾⡹⢾⡹⢧⣛⠶⣝⣮⢿⣿⣿⢧⡟⣮⢻⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣜⡻⣼⢣⡟⣮⢳⡝⣾⡱⣏⣞⢧⣛⡶⢯⠄ ⣔⣁⠢⡘⠈⠀⠀⠠⢌⡱⢂⣿⣿⡝⣧⢻⡱⣏⢾⡱⣏⢾⣱⢻⡜⣧⢏⡷⣹⠶⣹⢧⣛⢧⣏⠿⣜⢾⣿⣿⣿⢣⣟⡼⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⠷⣭⢳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣶⡹⣞⡼⣣⢯⡝⣯⠄

⣿⣿⠿⠛⣉⣉⣉⣉⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡿⢁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣌⡙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠁⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡄⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠛⢉⠋⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣷⣄⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⡙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢉⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡈⠻⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣷⣄⡙⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡈⠻⡿⢁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢹⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢸⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢛⣉⣀⠀⠙⣨⣤⣭⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠀⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢻⢸⣿⡟⢸⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣿⣿⣿⣧⣸⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠸⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢀⣿⣿⣯⡇⢸⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠛⢿⡏⣡⣶⡌⢻⣟⠁⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⡉⠛⠿⠿⠿⠛⢋⣠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣾⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢰⣿⣷⣬⢉⣵⣿⣿⣧⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠇⣸⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠘⠿⠿⠟⢁⡙⠛⠛⢋⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠀⢿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢀⣿⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⢿⡿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⢻⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⢋⣭⣭⠡⠾⢟⣂⣒⡻⠷⠌⠵⢶⣍⠻⣛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠈⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⢋⣴⡦⢊⣥⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣬⣌⡛⠿⠌⣛⡛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡅⢸ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⢑⡸⢁⣾⡟⠉⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣝⠻⡆⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢸ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⢾⠃⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠿⣿⣷⣌⠻⡆⣙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠠ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⢠⡀⣿⣿⣷⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⣛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣦⣱⣌⢻⣿⣿⣿⡇⡏⢰ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⠣⠹⢛⣙⣛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣭⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⡇⠛⣸⣽⣿⡟⡻⢁⣾ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣴⣿⣿⣯⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣼⢼⣾⣟⠟⢁⣾⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠙⠛⠟⣙⡻⣦⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⡀⢡⠞⠛⣁⣴⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡈⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⣶⣿⠆⠿⠦⠀⣰⣾⢂⣉⣛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⢁⣺⣥⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠛⠿⣿⣷⣤⠀⣀⠳⢢⣢⢲⠧⠘⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠋⠉⠉⡀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⠌⢉⡄⣈⠑⠛⠛⠂⠚⠓⠒⠀⠀⡀⢩⣴⣶⣶⡌⢢⡘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣴⣿⠟⡅⠚⠘⠂⡽⢻⣿⣬⣿⣷⡄⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠒⠘⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠴⣋⡅⣚⣥⣾⣿⣧⣙⠂⢭⡛⠻⠿⠃⡌⠛⢿⣿⣃⣼⠟⠈⢨⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣐⣣⣶⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⠘⣶⣦⣍⠁⠐⠐⠰⠌⠉⠋⠁⠄⠶⠂⠊⢙⢻⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣸⣿⣿⣇⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⣿⣿⣿⠀⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡶⠂⢉⣾⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣠⡙⠛⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⡇⢿⣦⣭⣝⡋⠶⢙⣫⣥⣴⡇⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣙⣂⠶⠦⠠⣤⠤⣄⡀⣡⣀⢠⣀⠄⣤⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⢱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠐⠶⠶⠄⠀⠼⣦⡲⠔⠾⣶⣶⣶⠶⠖⠀⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠛⠶⠶⠀⢿⣶⣤⣤⣘⣣⣤⣤⣤⣶⡞⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣁⣉⣉⣉⣉⣡⣌⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

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COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 2 (Neurodivergent author) By evening, Karen has set up a makeshift kitchen area in the living room, with all the ingredients for spaghetti arranged neatly on the coffee table. Plankton sits cross-legged on the floor, his eye never leaving the recipe book. He reads each step aloud, his voice growing stronger with confidence. Karen chops vegetables nearby, noticing the subtle changes in his movements, the way he tilts his head when he's concentrating. The smell of garlic and onions sizzling in olive oil fills the room. Plankton stirs the pot, his face scrunching up slightly at the aroma, a sign his sensory sensitivity has heightened. She sees him rub his hands together, a self-stimulatory behavior, but she knows it's his way of grounding himself amidst the chaos. They move around the makeshift kitchen, a silent dance of understanding and support. Karen boils the water for the spaghetti while Plankton continues to sauté the veggies. Each action is deliberate, each step measured as they navigate their new reality. The water reaches a rolling boil, and Plankton carefully drops in the spaghetti strands, his gaze transfixed by the swirling water. Karen watches his concentration and sees the childlike wonder in his eye. "How long?" he asks. "Five minutes," Karen says, her voice calm. She's read that clear and concise instructions can be helpful. After five minutes, Plankton quickly drains the spaghetti, his movements precise and methodical. He pours the sauce over the noodles and mixes them gently, his focus intense. Karen watches him, a mix of admiration and concern. "It's done," he announces, his voice a mix of excitement and apprehension. She brings over two plates, setting them on the coffee table. They sit across from each other, the steaming spaghetti a bridge between them. Plankton's hand hovers over his plate, unsure of how to proceed with the new sensory experience. "Let's eat," Karen says with a smile, picking up her fork and twirling the noodles expertly. The sound of her silverware against the plate makes him flinch, but he mimics her movements. They eat in silence, the clinking of forks and spoons the only sounds in the room. Plankton chews slowly, savoring each bite, his face a canvas of emotions. Karen watches him, her own fork poised in midair. As they finish dinner, Plankton sets his plate aside and looks at her, his expression earnest. "Thank you, Karen," he says, his voice clear. "For being here Karen." Her eyes brim with tears, but she blinks them back. "Always, Plankton. I'll always be here. Now it's getting late; let's go to bed.." In bed, she reads to him, his favorite childhood story, the words acting as a lullaby. Plankton's hand rests on her arm, his thumb rubbing circles in a self-soothing gesture. His breathing steadies, matching the rhythm of her voice. The book's final page is turned, and she switches off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The silence is filled with the comforting hum of the fan above. Karen lies beside Plankton, his body rigid with tension. Her arm wraps around him, pulling him closer, and she feels his muscles slowly relax. "Goodnight, Plankton," she whispers, kissing his forehead. He doesn't respond, lost in his thoughts. But she knows he heard her. Karen notices the tension in his body and gently runs her fingers through his antennae, a silent offer of comfort. Eventually, his breathing evens out, and he falls asleep, his body curled into hers like a child seeking shelter. The next morning, the sun streams through the blinds, casting stripes across the bed. Karen, already awake, watches him, her hand still entwined with his. He's still asleep, his body relaxed, the lines of worry from the day before smoothed out by the embrace of slumber. Carefully, she slides out of bed, not wanting to disturb him. She sees him stir in his sleep, his antennae twitching slightly, but he remains unaware of her departure. In the kitchen, Karen starts the coffee, the scent filling the room with a comforting aroma. She opens the fridge, finding the ingredients for the morning routine. Plankton's usual breakfast is a simple one: toast with jam and a banana. The toaster pops, and she spreads the jam with a gentle smoothness that Plankton likes. The banana peels easily, revealing the perfect yellow fruit inside. Her mind races with thoughts of how she'll need to learn his new sensitivities, his likes and dislikes, his triggers. But for now, she focuses on the task at hand, placing the slices of bread in the toaster. When the toast is just right, she carries the breakfast tray to the bedroom, her steps soft against the cold floor. Plankton's still asleep, his snores punctuating the quiet morning. Karen sets the tray on the bedside table. She watches him, unsure how to wake him without causing distress. She's read about sensory sensitivity and knows that sudden noise can be jarring for someone with Autism. She gently strokes his antennae, her touch featherlight, and whispers his name, "Plankton, wake up." He stirs, his antennae twitching, but his eye remains closed. Karen tries again, a little louder this time, "Wake up, sweetie. Breakfast is ready." Plankton's hand shoots up to cover his eye, a reflexive reaction to the light. His body tenses, then relaxes as his mind adjusts to the new day. He sits up slowly. "Thank you, Karen," he mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep. He takes in the breakfast spread before him, his antennae twitching with anticipation. He picks up the toast, feeling the warmth in his hands, the stickiness of the jam a familiar comfort. Karen watches him closely, noticing the way his eye widens slightly at the first bite, the way his tongue flicks out to taste the banana. It's as if every sensation is amplified, a symphony of flavors and textures that she can't begin to understand. She sips her coffee, silent, giving him space. As he eats, Plankton starts to hum again, his body rocking slightly. It's a low, comforting sound that fills the room. Karen feels the tension in her shoulders ease. This is their new normal, a dance of care and understanding.

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⡀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢀⠀dhoni⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀⠠⠀⢀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣶⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠄⣌⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀choki fans⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣷⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⡌⠀⠀⠠⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠂⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣙⢿⣿⣿⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣹⣟⣫⣼⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠠⠄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠁⠀⠀⠦⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢰⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣧⣄⣐⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀ ⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁

🎤💋😊 Sabrina S☆brina🎧ྀི🎧ྀི🎧ྀི🎧ྀི🎧ྀི˗ˏˋ 🎀ྀིྀི ˎˊ˗

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⡀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧Dhoni⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀⠠⠀⢀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣶⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠄⣌⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀chokli fans⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣷⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⡌⠀⠀⠠⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠂⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣙⢿⣿⣿⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣹⣟⣫⣼⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠠⠄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠁⠀⠀⠦⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢰⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣧⣄⣐⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀ ⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁

I ❤️ U

...◼

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TOOTH AFTERNOON i Karen remained fixed on her husband, Plankton, who lay on the chair, his mouth slightly agape. Her screen flitted to the doctor's assistant, who offered a sympathetic smile and nod. “The wisdom teeth extraction was a success. You can stay with him as he wakes up from anesthesia, but it’s normal if he doesn’t act like himself for today, as it’s a strong medicine.” The nurse emerged. “Yes, everything went well, Karen. We’ve removed the offending teeth and he’ll be on the mend soon. Just keep an eye on him for the next twenty-four hours, and he’ll be fine.” Karen watched, hands clasped tightly in her lap, as the doctor closed the door with a soft click. She felt the weight of the world lift, but she didn’t dare move. The surgery was done, but she knew the battle was only beginning. The room was quiet except for the faint beeping of monitors and the steady rhythm of Plankton’s breathing. The anesthesia had done its job, keeping him in a deep sleep. His face was serene, a stark contrast to the chaos of the day’s events. Drool pooled at the corner of his mouth, and Karen reached over to gently wipe it away with a tissue. She didn’t want him to wake up to that. Karen’s mind raced with thoughts of home, of the quiet comfort that waited for them. She knew the next hours would be a test of patience as the drugs will linger in his system. The doctor’s words echoed in her head: "Don’t be alarmed if he’s groggy or doesn’t remember much." As Plankton’s eye fluttered open, Karen leaned in closer, her voice a gentle whisper. “Hey, everything’s okay. You’re all done.” But his eye closed again, his head lolling back into the pillow. A sigh escaped her. The surgery was over, but the anesthesia’s grip remained strong. Moments later, Plankton stirred. “Whathapennn...?” he slurred, his tongue thick and unwieldy. Karen stifled a laugh with love for his vulnerable state. She squeezed his hand, trying to offer comfort. “You had your wisdom teeth out, sweetie. You’re ok now,” she soothed, but he didn’t seem to comprehend. His eye searched the room, a dizzying swirl of confusion and drugs. He attempted to sit up, but his body didn’t obey. He fell back with a grunt, hands flailing to the sides. The nurse bustled in, placing a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. “Take it easy, Mr. Plankton. You’re going to be a little loopy for a bit.” The words didn’t register. Plankton’s mouth was a cottony abyss where coherent thoughts went to die. He felt his tongue swell and thicken, his teeth floating in a sea of numbness. Karen watched, a mix of concern and amusement. “Thish isn’t right,” he mumbled. “Shomeone tookh my teethh!” Karen couldn’t help but chuckle at his slurred protest. “They just took the wisdom ones, hon. The ones that were giving you grief. You’re okay.” The doctor poked his head in, smiling at the sight of Plankton’s bewilderment. “How’s our patient doing?” Karen's amusement grew. “He’s under the influence, Doc. Thinks you took all his teeth!” The doctor chuckled, his eyes crinkling with good humor. “It’s the anesthesia. Give it some time to wear off, and he’ll be back to his charming self.” Plankton’s eye searched for her, blurry and unfocused. “Kareb, did they shteal my teef?” Karen’s chuckles grew louder. “They didn’t steal them, Plankton. They just removed the ones that were causing you pain. Your mouth is just a bit numb from the surgery.” Plankton’s eye widened. “Arrr, matey?” Karen’s laughter bubbled over. “No, you’re not a pirate, you just had surgery. The feeling will come back eventually.” Plankton blinked at her, his eyelid heavy. “Marrnin’, Karen. Wher’ arr we?” his words jumbled as he tried to piece together the fragments of reality that drifted in and out of his consciousness. The room was still, the only movement being the occasional twitch of his mouth as the anesthesia tried to keep him in its grasp. Karen’s screen sparkled with mirth. “We’re at the dentist’s, Plankton. You had your wisdom teeth removed.” “Wiz-dom...teef?” he slurred, his mind a foggy haze. Karen nodded, her laughter now a gentle rumble. “Yes, the doctor took them out so you don’t hurt anymore. You’re going to be okay now,” she cooed, stroking his forehead. But Plankton’s confusion was unyielding. “Marrnin’, Karen,” he mumbled again, as if trying to anchor himself in the familiar. “It’s afternoon, Plankton. You’ve been out for a while. You’re okay, though. Just a bit slow on the uptake, that’s all,” Karen teased, her voice filled with affection. Plankton blinked again, his eye trying to focus. “Af...ter...noon?” He felt the world spin around his head and groaned. “Wheh?” Karen nodded, her smile soft. “Yes, it’s afternoon. You’ve been asleep for a bit. But don’t worry, everything went well. The doctor got all the teeth out and you’re going to be fine.” Plankton’s eye searched hers, still not fully comprehending. “Teesh?” he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. Karen nodded, her smile growing. “Yes, teeth, sweetie. The doctor took out the ones that were causing you pain. Remember?” Plankton’s face contorted in thought, his mouth a limp mess of numbness. “Oooh, yea...teefh,” he managed, the word dragging out.

⠀⠀⠀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣉⣩⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀ ⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄ ⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂ ⢠⣾⣿⣿⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀ ⠀⠙⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠻⠿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⣩⣝⢿⠀⠀⣠⣶⣶⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⡝⣿⣦⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣮⢻⣿⠟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣋⣁⣀⣀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ！ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵈᵃᵈ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵖᵃʸᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐʸ ᶜᵒˡˡᵉᵍᵉ ᵗᵘⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿ! ⋆*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆ 💋 ˢᵗᵃʸ ᵐᵃᵈ ᵇⁱᵗᶜʰ*ੈ𑁍༘<𝟑

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⡀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀dhoni⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠂⢀⣀ ⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀⠠⠀⢀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠁⠀ ⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣶⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠤⠄⠒⠈⠀⠈⠐⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠄⢌⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠼⠒⠆⠂⠀⠄⠠ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠶⡂⠀⠁⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⡉⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀choki fans⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣷⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⡌⠀⠀⠠⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠂⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣙⢿⣿⣿⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣹⣟⣫⣼⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠠⠄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠁⠀⠀⠦⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢰⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣧⣄⣐⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀ ⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁

☣

☯︎⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆. 𐙚

ˋ°•*⁀➷١٥٧٤♡👰-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

guy stop fucking saying this web needs to be a fucking app like what the fuck there lots of fucking beef like do you guys have brain cells of a dick shit like get a life if you care about fucking 8 year olds then dont make this a fucking app if you fucking do more little kids will get draked like what the skidi bro get a fucking bro°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

̸/̸̅̅ ̆̅ ̅̅ ̅̅ ̸/̸̅̅ ̆̅ ̅̅ ̅̅

whoever said "guy stop f-ing saying this web needs to be a f-ing app like what the f-k there lots of f-ing beef like do you guys have brain cells of a d-k sh-t like get a life if you care about f-ing 8 year olds then dont make this a f-ing app if you f-ing do more little kids will get draked like what the skidi bro get a f-ing bro°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･" please chill out like multiple people have said this is a website where little kids come on here to find cute combos so please be respectful ౨ৎ°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𐙚 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ .☘︎ ݁˖

guy stop fucking saying to fucking this web a fucking app like what the fuck there lot of fucking beef like do you guys have brain cells of a dick shit like get a life if you care about fuck 8 year olds then dont make this a fucking app if you fucking do more little kids will get draked like what the skidi bro get a fucking bro°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

SPONGEBOB OVERLOAD 2/2 (By NEUROFABULOUS) Plankton's memory was a jumble of images and sounds, but he recaled the confrontation with Mr. Krabs, the spatula, and the pain. He sat up slowly, his head spinning. The pain was intense, but his mind was racing even faster. Plankton looked around the room, his eye trying to make sense of the scene. The Chum Bucket was a mess, his usual order thrown into chaos. Karen's face was a blur of concern, and Sponge Bob hovered close by, his expression filled with a mix of fear and pity. Plankton's mind raced, his thoughts scattered like sand in a storm. He felt a deep disconnect from the world around him, as if he was watching a play in which he was a reluctant participant. His head throbbed, but not just from the blow. It was the pressure of his own thoughts, his brain working overtime to process what had just occurred. Karen noticed the confusion in his expression and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "You had an accident, sweetie," she said softly. "It's okay. You're home now." Plankton's eye darted around the room, his mind struggling to understand the sudden shift in his reality. The noise was overwhelming, each sound a needle pricking his sensitive nerves. "Karen," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "What's happening?" Her gaze softened. "You got hurt, Plankton," she explained gently. "But the science fair," he mumbled, his thoughts jumbled. Karen's expression grew even more concerned. "The science fair can wait, Plankton," she soothed. But Plankton's mind was stuck in a loop, repeating her words. "The science fair can wait Plankton," he echoed, his voice frail and distant. Karen's eyes grew wet with worry. "Yes, dear," she said, stroking his arm. "Your wellbeing is more important." Plankton's eye narrowed as he repeated her words, his voice a mix of stubbornness and determination. "Wellbeing is important," he murmured, his thoughts racing. The words echoed in his head, a maddening loop. "The science fair can wait, Plankton," he whispered to himself, his voice taking on a rhythmic pattern. "Can wait, can wait..." Sponge Bob watched, his heart heavy with concern. He had never seen his friend like this, his usual confidence and scheming reduced to repetitive mumbles. "Plankton," he ventured cautiously, placing a spongy hand on his shoulder. Plankton's eye snapped to his, the loop breaking for a brief moment. "Sponge Bob," he murmured, his voice still weak. Sponge Bob's heart leaped with hope. "Yes, Plankton, I'm here," he said gently. But Plankton's gaze was distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. "Wellbeing is important," he murmured again, the words coming out in a staccato rhythm, his mind locked in the grip of echolalia. Karen's heart clenched with fear. This wasn't just disorientation from his injury. This was something more. "Sponge Bob," she whispered urgently. "I think he's in shock." Sponge Bob nodded, his face a mask of concern. "I'll get some water," he said, rushing to the sink. He filled a glass and hurried back, careful not to spill a drop. Plankton's eye followed the glass, his gaze unfocused. He began to rock back and forth slightly. Karen noticed the change in his behavior, her concern deepening. "Here, drink some water," she urged, offering the glass to his shaking hand. Plankton took it without a word, his motions mechanical. He brought the glass to his lips, but his hand trembled so badly that water sloshed out, spilling down. The moment the cool liquid hit the floor, a strange look passed over his face. It was as if he had seen a ghost, his single eye going wide with alarm. "The water," he stammered, his voice shaking. Karen's heart sank as she watched her husband's distress. "It's okay, Plankton," she soothed. "It's just water..." But Plankton's eye were glued to the spilled water, his entire body trembling. "It's... it's not right," he muttered, his voice filled with a childlike fear. Karen looked confused, the spilled water seemingly a minor issue. “Plank…” “It’s not right!” Plankton’s voice was urgent now, his trembling hand gesturing at the spill. His mind was a whirlwind of disturbing thoughts, each more distressing than the last. Sponge Bob and Karen exchanged worried glances. “What do you mean, Plankton?” Sponge Bob asked, kneeling beside the couch, his eyes full of concern. Plankton's breathing grew rapid, his chest heaving. "The... the... water," he stuttered, pointing at the puddle. "It's too... too... much!" Karen's gaze flitted to the floor, then back to her husband. "It's okay," she soothed, her voice quaking with fear. "It's just a little spill." But Plankton's agitation only grew. He flung the glass aside, the remaining water splattering against the wall. "No!" he shouted, his voice high and desperate. "Too much!" Karen and Sponge Bob watched in horror as Plankton collapsed into a sobbing mess, his tiny body wracked with tremors. His hands fluttered in his face, his breath coming in quick, sharp gasps. The room grew claustrophobic, the air thick with his panic. "It's okay," Karen whispered, her voice shaking. "It's just water, Plankton." But his anguished cries only grew louder. Sponge Bob's heart ached as he watched his friend fall apart before his eyes. Plankton's behavior was unlike anything he had ever seen, his usual cunning replaced with a raw, overwhelming fear. The room grew smaller as Plankton's sobs filled the space, his body convulsing with the intensity of his breakdown. Karen looked at Sponge Bob, her expression a mix of despair and determination. They both knew they had to calm him down, but how? Sponge Bob took a deep breath, trying to think. "Plankton," he said softly, his voice a gentle coax. "Look at me, buddy. It's just a spill. It's okay." Plankton's cries grew louder, his body shaking uncontrollably. Karen wrapped her arms around him, trying to soothe the storm raging inside his mind. "Shh, it's okay," she murmured, her voice barely audible over his cries. Sponge Bob's heart was in his throat as he watched his friend's breakdown. Plankton was not his usual self. The usually scheming, sneaky scientist was reduced to a quivering mess, his sobs echoing off the walls of the tiny Chum Bucket. His face was a mask of fear and confusion, his single eye wide with panic. "Plankton, please," Karen begged, her voice trembling. "You're scaring me." She scans his brain. The results were not what she expected. The blow from Mr. Krabs had caused more damage than she could have imagined. The injury had altered his brain chemistry in a way that was both profound and irreversible. Plankton had developed a rare condition called acquired autism, a disorder that could occur after a severe head trauma. It was a cruel twist of fate for a man whose life had been consumed by the desire for the Krabby Patty formula. The realization hit Karen like a tidal wave, knocking the wind out of her. Her eyes filled with tears as she whispered the diagnosis to Sponge Bob and Plankton. His expression mirrored her shock and sadness. Sponge Bob sat silent for a moment, his usually cheerful face contorted with sympathy and concern. "What do we do?" he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can you clean the mess?” Karen asks him. He nodded solemnly, his movements slow and deliberate as he stood up to mop the spilled water. As he worked, he couldn't help but feel a deep sorrow for his friend. Plankton had always been the troublemaker, the one who pushed boundaries. But now, his world was shattered. The silence in the room was only broken by Plankton's sobs and the swish of the mop. Sponge Bob's heart felt heavy as he cleaned up the water, his thoughts racing. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. His best friend, his rival, his... his family. Plankton had always been there, through thick and thin, and now he was... different. And yet, that’s ok.

SANDY LEARNT A SECRET 2/2 The car ride home was quiet, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from Karen. Sandy drove carefully, avoiding potholes and bumps that might jar Plankton and extend his absence. She glanced at the rearview mirror, watching his still form in the backseat, his face a mask of zoned out oblivion. Karen sat next to Plankton. Her eyes never left his, willing him to blink, to move, to give any sign that he understood. They entered the Chum Bucket home. Sandy trailed behind, silent as Karen takes Plankton to their bedroom. Karen laid Plankton down on his bed, her hands shaking slightly as she pulled the blanket over his unmoving body. She tucked it in around him, smoothing out the wrinkles with tender strokes. Sandy took a seat by his side, her heart racing from the weight of what she'd just learned. Plankton lay there, completely still, his breathing shallow yet even. She studied his face, trying to read the secrets behind his glazed eye. It was eerie, yet in a strange way, like watching someone lost in a deep, unshakeable sleep. The room was bathed in soft light, the curtains filtering the harshness of the sun outside. The only sound was the faint tick of a clock on the nightstand and the even flow of air from the air conditioner. It was a contrast to the chaos of his seizure, and Sandy whispered, "You're safe here." Her eyes remained on his, waiting for the slightest movement. The minutes stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity. Then, as if waking from a deep slumber, Plankton's eye flickered. His gaze was unfocused, his pupil slowly expanding and contracting as he tried to adjust to the light, then confusion. She watched with bated breath as he blinked a few times. "Where… How?" he mumbled, his voice groggy and distant. "You had a… I saw you at the park, Plankton," Sandy said, her tone gentle. "You're home now. You're safe." Plankton's eye searched her face, the confusion deepening as he tried to piece together what happened. His gaze drifted to the window, where the world outside was a blur of colors and sounds. "Sandy?" he asked, his voice tentative. She nodded, her hand reaching out to squeeze his. "You're safe, Plankton. It's just..." But before Sandy could finish, he sat up with a start, his eye wide. "What happened?" He demands. Sandy's heart skipped a beat. "You had a seizure at the park," she explained. Plankton's hand flew to his face, his antennae drooping. "Oh, great," he murmured, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. The realization of his condition in front of someone who didn't know was clear in his expression. Sandy felt a pang of regret. "It's okay, Plankton," she says, her voice gentle. "It's just a part o..." "I know what it is!" Plankton snapped, cutting her off. His frustration was palpable, his body rigid with embarrassment. "I don't need you to explain it to me!" Sandy took a step back, her hand falling to her side. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely. Plankton's chest heaved with the effort of holding back his anger. He knew Sandy was just trying to help, but the sudden spotlight on his condition felt like an invasion of his personal space. "I'm sorry, I just..." Sandy began, but Plankton's frustration was like a dam bursting. "You just what?" he countered, his voice sharp. Sandy's cheeks burned. "I'm sorry, I just didn't know how to help. I've never..." "Seen me like this?" Plankton finished for her, his voice still edgy. Sandy nodded, feeling a knot form in her stomach. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I just wanna ask you wh..." "Don't," Plankton interrupted, his voice brittle. "I don't want to talk about it." Sandy nodded, feeling the sting of his words. She backed away, giving him space. "Okay," she said softly. "But if you eve..." "Just go," Plankton interrupted, his voice smaller now, his eye watering. "I need some time alone." Sandy nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She knew his anger was a shield, a way to protect himself from the curiosity and sympathy he saw as invasive. She backed out of the room. She found Karen seated on the couch. "He ok?" Karen asked. Sandy nodded. "He's awake. He's just...upset?" Karen stood up, her expression a mix of relief and concern. "I'll go to him," she decided, heading to the bedroom. Sandy hovered by the door as Karen went in. "Plankton," Karen began, her voice gentle. "You're safe, love. It's ok." Sandy could see the tension in Karen as she approached the bed, her hand trembling as it reached out to touch Plankton's shoulder. His eye met hers, and for a moment, Sandy saw the raw pain and embarrassment in his gaze. "Let's all go to the living room," Karen whispered, her voice shaky. Plankton nodded. In the living room, the three of them sat down on the couch, the silence thick and uncomfortable. Sandy felt the urge to fill it with reassurances, but she held her tongue. Karen took Plankton's hand in hers, her thumb stroking the back of it in a comforting gesture. "I know it's hard," she said softly, "but it's ok. You're ok." Plankton nodded, his breathing still a little rapid, his expression guarded. "Do you remember anything?" Karen asked, her voice a gentle caress. Plankton's gaze drifted to the floor. "Just the park," he mumbled. "The swings." Sandy's eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean?" Plankton's grip on the couch cushion tightened. "You don't need to know," he said, his voice edged with irritation. Karen gave a resigned sigh. "Plankton, San..." "I said I don't want to talk about it!" Plankton's voice was a sudden explosion, echoing through the room. Sandy flinched at his outburst. "Plankton, please," Karen interjected, her voice a calm contrast to the storm of his emotions. "Sandy's just trying to understand." But Plankton's anger was a wall, impenetrable. "I don't owe her anything!" he snapped, pulling his hand away from hers. "It’s not her business!" Sandy felt the sting of his words. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry.." Karen put a hand on Sandy's shoulder, her eyes kind. "It's ok. It's new for you, and it's a lot to take in. Plankton just needs a bit of space." She turned to her husband, her voice soothing. "Honey, Sandy's our friend. She wants to be there for us." Sandy watched as Plankton's body visibly relaxed, his breathing evening out. His eye flickered up to meet hers, and she saw the apology in it. He took another deep breath, his shoulders dropping. "I know," he said, his voice smaller now. "I'm sorry." Karen's hand remained on his shoulder, her expression one of understanding. "It's ok," she said. "We're all trying to figure it out."

ᥫ᭡. ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ᥫ᭡

😘😘😘😘😘

☺️🎄🇦🇮🇦🇮🇷🇳🇲🇸🇴🇪🇹🇱🇫🇰🇭🇬🇺🇩🇨🇵🇧🇯🇾🇼🇿🇻🇶🇽🇽𝓐𝓑𝑳𝒅ℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥sᴜʙsᴄʀɪʙᴇ⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎R☆ckstar𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒆𝒍:()_()---OMG•˚ 𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴 ˚•˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა ♡˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡°

“🫧🎀⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𐙚⋆°. ౨ৎ ౨ৎ 𐙚 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 🐬°˖𓍢ִ໋ 🐋✧°.🐟⋆ 🐬°˖𓍢ִ໋ 🐋✧°.🐟⋆ 🐬°˖𓍢ִ໋ 🐋✧°.🐟⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ 🎀🛼🫶🏻🌸🛍️🎀🛼🫶🏻🌸🛍️୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ ☆‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.🎀🪞🩰🦢🕯♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

𐙚 𓇢𓆸

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧🩷˚.🎀༘⋆˚⋆𐙚｡ 𖦹.ᡣ𐭩˚₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.જ⁀➴>ᴗ<ℳℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾(づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡

🇩🇪2️⃣

🫶🏻♡ ̆̈♡´･ᴗ･`♡♾

me໑ me༝༚༝༚

🖖😉🤭💨

★🍞🔥 TOSTADORAS FOREVER (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) #OC 🔥🍞★‹𝟹

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⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⢿⣻⣟⣿⣻⢿⡝⣯⢻⣝⣻⢿⣻⢿⣟⣿⣿⢿⡻⣝⣯⣟⡷⢯⡿⡽⣏⡿⣽⢫⣟⣭⢯⡽⣻⢼⣻⠲⣭⢯⡝⣯⡹⣭⣻⢭⣿⣿⣿⢀⡿⣙⠮⣝⣣⢏⡳⣭⠳⣍⡻⠼⣭⢳⡙⣮⡙⢦⣱⠂⡔⢠⠂⡐⠄⢢⠐⠄⢂⠰⠀⠆⠠⠐⡀⢆⡐ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⢿⣻⣽⣾⣿⣾⢿⣯⡿⣾⣽⣻⣟⣷⣻⢾⡽⣯⣻⣵⣿⡾⣟⡿⣯⢟⡾⣝⡮⢷⣹⣾⣶⣿⣾⣿⣷⣿⣽⣾⣷⣿⣾⣽⣮⣷⣛⣮⢳⡻⣜⣳⡚⡴⣹⠶⣭⢻⣿⣟⣿⡿⠼⣍⠳⣎⠳⣎⢳⡜⡳⢧⣙⠳⣬⢣⡝⢦⡹⢶⣡⠻⣜⢆⡒⢄⡈⠄⠂⠤⢀⠠⠀⠌⠠⣁⠰⠂⡔ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣽⣾⣻⣞⣿⣳⢯⣷⣛⣾⣽⣯⣿⢷⣻⣟⡾⡽⣏⡷⣽⢺⣝⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⡏⠷⢿⣷⣭⣛⡶⣿⣿⢺⣿⣿⢳⢎⡷⣜⡳⡬⢗⡼⡱⢣⢎⡳⣌⠳⣜⢣⡝⢦⣃⠯⡜⢮⡱⢣⢳⣈⠐⡐⠂⠄⠡⢈⠐⡄⠁⢂⠐ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣯⣿⢿⣿⣳⣟⡾⣿⣽⣻⣾⣽⡾⣯⣟⡾⣟⡷⢾⣹⡳⣝⣾⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣍⣻⣿⣜⣿⣯⢿⣿⣏⡞⣬⢓⠮⣵⣙⠮⣜⡱⢏⠶⣱⢌⡳⣌⠷⣘⡒⣎⠲⡹⢆⡱⣉⠖⡬⡛⢤⣈⠄⢁⠂⡐⠠⣁⠠⡈ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣿⣽⡿⣿⣯⣿⣽⣿⣳⣯⢷⣟⡾⣽⢷⣫⢽⣹⣞⣯⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢿⣿⣧⡛⡴⣋⢗⠢⡝⣎⠲⢥⣋⠳⡍⢎⡱⠜⣌⠳⣘⢌⢣⡙⢬⠱⡡⢎⡱⢩⠣⣉⠎⡼⠀⠄⠡⢭⠐⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⢿⣽⣿⣻⣾⢿⣽⣟⡾⣽⣣⢯⡽⣟⣳⣾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⢧⡳⡵⣌⣎⡱⢎⡵⢋⠧⣌⠳⣌⠳⢌⡓⡌⡓⢬⢊⠴⡘⢦⠣⢅⣣⢱⣃⠳⢌⠚⡤⡃⢌⡐⢌⠀⡀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣽⣿⡿⣿⣻⡾⣿⡽⣯⣷⢯⡷⣻⣌⢧⣻⢞⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣣⢳⡙⡶⢬⠳⣍⠲⣍⠲⣌⠳⢌⡚⢄⡒⢡⠚⡄⢃⠎⡸⢁⠞⡐⢆⡣⢎⡱⣊⠵⠈⠑⠢⢌⠂⡉⠒ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣹⣷⣿⢿⣾⣏⣷⢹⡾⢿⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠇⡾⣁⠏⣱⠎⣷⠈⢷⡈⢷⡈⡸⢀⠸⡀⠷⣈⡶⢈⡰⠉⣆⠹⣆⠱⡎⣰⢁⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣾⣿⢿⣽⣿⣳⣟⣾⣻⢾⡽⣾⣿⣞⢯⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠁⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣄⡀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡘⢥⢃⠞⣡⠞⡰⢋⠦⡙⢦⠱⣡⢫⠱⣀⠂⡐⠄⢃⢣⠑⣌⠒⡈⡥⠙⣆⠃⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣯⣿⣟⣾⡿⣽⣾⣟⣿⣽⣷⣻⡼⣫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⡿⠟⡻⢿⣯⣟⡻⣽⢻⠿⡿⣍⣛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⣌⠣⢎⡱⢊⠵⣉⠖⣩⠦⡙⢈⢤⠃⢤⢉⠖⡈⠀⣀⠩⠂⠜⡐⠤⡉⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⣟⡿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣻⣟⣷⣻⢯⡟⣧⣟⣷⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣤⣾⠿⠛⢿⡟⣿⣶⣭⣳⣞⡿⣿⣶⣏⠳⣍⢏⡿⣷⡞⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡙⣬⠣⣍⠲⢡⠚⣤⢒⡡⢋⠤⣉⠦⡌⠒⡌⢣⠍⠀⠠⠆⠈⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢂ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣾⡷⣯⢿⣹⢷⣫⢟⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⠤⠄⠂⠤⢡⡉⠟⠛⠛⠿⣹⢻⡿⣷⣮⡘⠴⡙⠿⣷⣉⣿⣅⢿⣿⣿⣿⡙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⡐⢨⢑⠤⣃⠣⠜⡠⠢⢅⣉⠒⡄⠣⠘⠥⡘⠄⠦⡌⢁⣐⠂⡤⠴⡀⢠⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠊⠄ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣯⠳⣍⣳⢏⡳⣏⢾⡹⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢶⣄⡀⠀⠁⠩⢛⠿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣶⣿⣿⡿⠉⢿⣻⣿⣿⣷⣄⠘⣿⣿⣿⠿⢧⡙⠦⣉⠒⢬⠢⠱⠀⠃⡘⠀⢎⠠⠅⡉⠔⡈⠰⣁⠀⡀⠠⠘⠤⢣⠘⠲⡃⠀⡀⠀⢀⠂⣉⠂ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣾⡻⣭⡝⢮⡳⡝⣶⡝⢮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⣼⣿⣿⣭⢾⣿⠀⠀⠋⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢶⣦⣴⣈⣐⣈⠍⣉⣍⣷⡾⢯⠆⣰⠟⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢛⣛⣀⣿⣽⠟⣶⡈⠄⢢⠅⢪⠁⡄⢣⠠⠌⠰⠐⡐⡈⢁⠀⠛⠤⡁⢎⠰⡁⢎⠱⠄⠀⡀⠄⢂⠰⢀⠡ ⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⡿⣿⣳⣿⣿⣷⣧⣝⡣⢷⡹⢺⣍⡆⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣾⡟⠃⣼⣿⠁⢹⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣉⣉⠋⡍⢋⠍⡉⢡⣾⡧⠀⢏⣐⣶⠃⠀⣠⣵⣾⣿⣿⣿⠉⠀⢀⣴⠟⠁⡄⢂⡌⣀⠒⣀⠂⡐⠈⠄⢃⠰⢁⠂⢈⡔⢂⠩⠐⣂⠱⢌⠤⠘⠒⠁⠈⠄⠢⣀⠂ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⡿⣿⣟⣯⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣶⣝⣣⠞⣸⠻⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⢸⣿⠃⠀⣼⣿⢷⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⠁⠐⣂⣬⣴⡿⢟⣡⣼⡔⠋⢁⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⠠⠄⡸⢫⠝⣈⠿⢤⡸⡀⠅⢎⠠⢂⠅⡊⢅⠲⠄⢂⠃⠄⡂⠤⢈⡙⢌⡘⠡⠚⠠⠄⡃ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣯⣿⣷⣿⣾⡿⣯⣿⣾⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣋⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠏⠀⠈⢻⡏⢀⣹⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣴⣶⣶⡾⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣜⣊⠐⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠻⣿⣿⠛⠿⣿⣧⢀⡹⣑⢣⡙⢎⢆⡱⢉⠂⠩⢀⠃⡌⡰⢁⡎⠰⢉⠢⠈⠐⢡⠚⣠⠑⡂⢌⡱⢉⠆⡱⢈ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣖⣩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⠟⢩⢋⡙⢉⣻⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⠀⢀⣠⣾⢁⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣉⠁⠁⠀⠶⣱⢊⡅⠈⠃⠀⠀⢸⡏⢂⠔⠺⢧⣜⠪⠱⡐⢢⠉⠒⢁⠊⡄⢁⠃⠄⢩⠀⠆⠛⠔⢢⡘⠤⡙⢬⡉⠖⢣⡘⠤⢃ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢯⡛⢼⠩⢏⣛⢛⡟⣻⠛⡟⡛⠍⠲⠴⣀⠆⡐⠶⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣿⠇⣀⣼⣿⡏⢸⣿⣿⣿⡿⠉⠈⠹⣷⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠘⣿⣷⣄⠀⢀⡜⢦⡛⡔⢃⠤⠈⢹⣿⣿⢣⣄⡀⠆⡈⢉⠱⢌⠱⣀⢆⡞⢚⡕⣢⠈⢌⡁⠌⡐⠂⠌⢤⠛⡠⢑⠢⣑⢊⠵⡘⡥⢣ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡳⢾⣿⣧⣿⡀⢋⠶⣉⠒⡌⡰⢩⠔⡡⢋⠔⡑⢈⠂⡐⢠⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠁⣼⣿⡟⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣶⣾⣯⣶⡹⣼⣡⣶⠀⣻⡿⢏⠿⣿⣶⢧⠰⣀⢰⣈⡖⠫⣜⡌⢋⠜⡠⢁⠊⡔⠡⢂⢉⡐⢀⠈⣇⢣⠱⣌⢎⡲⣙⠶⣩ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢧⡔⢡⠚⡘⠤⠣⠜⠤⠙⡈⠑⠁⢘⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣏⠒⣿⡟⠁⢸⣿⣿⣿⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣟⠹⣿⣿⣜⣿⣇⣰⡟⠁⠌⠒⢁⠊⢍⢣⠝⣦⢣⣜⠵⣊⠱⢋⣚⡘⢧⠷⣬⡲⢔⠪⡴⢫⢛⡤⣃⢳⣌⠶⣱⢭⡞⡿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣬⠁⢎⢡⡃⢌⠰⣀⠡⠐⠃⡀⣿⡟⠀⠀⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡃⠘⣿⠁⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣽⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣟⣿⡟⢿⠀⠀⠈⠃⠐⠀⠀⠈⠑⣠⠃⡜⠸⣍⡳⢬⠷⢎⡓⣮⡡⢓⠌⡓⠌⡃⠎⡴⢉⠦⡙⢮⡱⣫⢾⣱ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡈⠆⡶⡈⢆⠁⠰⢀⠁⠁⢸⣿⡀⠀⠀⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣷⣶⣿⡀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⠿⠇⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠈⣀⢹⡹⣶⡈⢿⡈⢷⡹⢿⣾⢹⢱⠹⣾⢱⣉⢶⡏⣶⢱⢇⣏⣶ ⢛⠿⣻⠿⣿⢿⡿⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⠿⠿⠻⠛⠛⣋⠋⢍⡉⠡⢈⠐⠠⠁⢤⡈⠔⡠⠤⠄⠠⣿⣇⠀⠀⣶⡇⠀⣀⣠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢻⣿⣿⣤⣼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⢛⡧⣙⢦⠻⣝⡛⣶⣘⣮⢧⣳⣌⠷⣜⣧⢻⣔⣫⡜⣬⢳ ⡩⣖⣥⣋⠴⣃⠞⡱⢋⠶⢩⠒⡴⠀⢆⠉⢒⡁⠒⡀⠄⣂⠀⠀⠂⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣧⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠙⢻⣿⣽⡟⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⡻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠈⠻⠿⠿⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠄⠘⠙⢷⣮⡹⠼⢛⡉⠳⠜⠺⠝⡾⠿⡽⡾⠷⣛⠳⡛⠟⢯ ⠛⣝⡦⡥⢎⡜⢊⠱⠉⢆⠃⠇⠠⢩⠐⠌⠂⠬⢁⠐⡈⢀⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⡉⢳⣾⣿⡏⠀⣠⠟⢻⣿⣿⠂⠼⣿⣿⣟⠛⠉⠉⠀⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣾⡗⣀⠀⡀⣈⠀⣈⣀⣄⣠⣶⣉⡀⠀⣹⣿⣷⢦⣶⣾⣷⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠉⠱⡟⠶⡬⣥⣬⣄⠢⠔⣠⠰⠰⢃⠲⠑⠌⠜⠠ ⠩⡉⠔⡠⠂⠴⢍⠲⣉⠎⡜⡂⢀⢣⠈⠄⡁⢂⠈⠁⡈⠀⠌⠂⠐⠚⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣷⣿⡏⠀⠚⠁⠀⣠⣿⣷⣀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣵⣶⡱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢳⢤⢳⡰⢣⡔⣸⡿⠛⠉⢡⣿⣿⢿⣿⠀⠀⢹⡟⢹⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠄⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⠀⠀⡁⠠⠂⠈⠐⠜⠂ ⠡⡘⡐⢁⠎⠚⢂⢁⠂⠔⠠⠁⡄⠈⠄⠂⠐⠀⠠⠁⠀⠄⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠐⠒⠲⠿⢶⣄⣀⠀⢻⣿⠿⢶⣤⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡾⢛⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣟⡛⡟⢿⣿⣯⢿⣞⣷⣻⣷⣿⡿⢧⣀⣤⣿⡋⠁⠀⠙⣧⣀⣾⣧⣼⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠠⠀⠀⠄⠂⠄⣁ ⠠⢡⠐⡡⢈⠒⡄⠒⡈⠆⡁⠒⠀⢃⠈⠄⠁⠂⠐⠀⠠⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢷⣄⢿⡆⠀⢹⣿⡟⠉⠀⠉⢿⣿⣷⢁⠾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⢻⣿⡿⣷⣄⠀⠀⣼⣿⣯⣿⡿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⡁⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣷ ⠐⣁⠲⢀⠡⢈⠄⠡⠐⠀⠐⠀⠁⡀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣄⢸⣿⣿⣀⠂⡄⠠⠘⠿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡶⠟⠁⠀⠈⠙⠻⠿⠟⢿⣿⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠂⢈ ⠐⠠⠀⠂⠐⠀⠈⠐⠀⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠿⣦⡙⣿⣷⡂⣌⠱⣀⢎⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⡄⡀⢀⠀⡀⣀⣴⣶⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣾ ⠀⠠⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣷⣎⣳⡭⣾⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡼⡱⣌⢆⣵⣾⣟⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣼⣯⣟⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⣷⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⣀⣴⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⣁⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣾⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡹⠻⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡶⠾⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⠤⠤⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠭⣭⣍⡉⠿⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⠙⢿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⣵⣛⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⢿⠿⡿⢿⡟⡻⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡇⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣯⢿⣜⢯⠞⣭⠳⣜⣱⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣇⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣳⣟⡾⣷⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣟⢯⡻⣼⡹⢞⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⣿⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡾⣏⢷⣇⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣯⢷⣚⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⣳⡻⣼⣿⣿⣿⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⠴⠶⠦⠶⠶⢶⡄⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣦⣴⣦⣴⣤⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣤⣄⢀⣀⣴⠟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣟⡿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠘⠀⠄⠀⢀⣤⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢁⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⡀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠉⠈⠁⠉⠀⠉⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⠐⠉⠒⠂⠐⠃⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿

i <3 lana del rey ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

🏉,🏀,🇳🇿,🏄‍♂️,♂,👨,👨,👨,👩,👩

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⣿⣷⣶⣶⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣦⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⣀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⢟⣺⡽⢛⣿⣿⠿⠟⠋⠉⠁⡀⢀⠠⠁⠀⠄⠀⠥⠤⠉⠉⠙⠛⠿⠿⣶⣦⣄⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣷⡫⣿⣾⠿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠠⡛⣁⣂⠄⠀⠒⠁⡄⠄⠀⠂⠐⠔⠠⣀⠠⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣾⣾⣹⣗⡀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣮⢵⣿⠟⠀⠁⠀⠀⠄⠔⠊⠀⠀⡀⠀⠊⠐⡈⡈⠀⠃⠀⠀⠈⠠⠀⠀⠀⣀⢦⡄⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⡷⣻⠟⢿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣫⣼⡗⠁⠀⠀⠀⡈⠂⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠁⠁⡀⠈⠂⠂⠀⢤⡀⡀⠀⢨⢄⡀⠨⠐⡙⢷⡀⠈⢿⣿⣏⣿⡓⡿⣯⣿⣀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⣿⣿⢿⡿⣼⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠔⡈⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⠀⠈⠅⠀⠠⠁⠁⢄⠀⠢⡀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠉⢄⠒⠄⠈⠻⣦⣾⣿⣿⠥⠾⡥⣄⣿⣿⣆⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣻⢟⠃⠀⠀⢀⠄⣠⠂⠀⠑⠀⣿⡥⠁⡐⡀⠁⠀⠠⠀⠀⠐⠀⠘⠀⠘⣧⡀⠀⠀⠈⠁⢠⠀⠈⠹⣿⣷⣿⣦⠘⢿⣮⣻⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⠆⠀⠀⠀⠋⢠⡟⠀⠀⢄⢴⡾⡇⡴⢀⠀⠊⠀⠈⣶⡄⠀⡤⠤⡀⠀⠘⢗⡄⠄⠐⠀⡢⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣾⣿⣃⠘⢿⢻⣿⣿⣽⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣷⡒⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⣼⠃⠀⠠⣾⠋⠨⣿⠀⡄⠀⡆⠙⡁⣹⣿⣄⠀⠀⢩⡈⠀⠨⣷⠁⠀⠀⠤⢀⢂⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡷⡄⢘⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⠂⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢹⣷⠄⠀⡰⠁⢰⣿⠀⣰⡿⠥⠄⢤⡟⠆⣷⠀⢩⢠⠀⣿⠉⢿⣦⠁⠘⣿⣆⠀⢻⣷⡀⢀⠃⢀⠊⠄⠀⢹⣿⣟⢷⢳⣼⣷⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣾⣿⠀⠠⢘⠀⣸⣿⣰⡻⠁⠄⠀⠀⠔⡺⣿⣖⠐⡨⠀⣾⡁⠀⣿⣷⡶⣓⡿⢻⡮⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣯⡹⣿⣽⣿⣷⢿⡂⠈⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⢽⣿⠀⠀⠁⠀⣸⣿⣿⢵⣿⢵⣦⣄⠀⢸⣉⣿⡄⠒⠄⣿⠀⠀⠈⠘⠯⢿⣧⠈⠻⣿⣿⡀⢀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠄⣿⣗⢿⠿⣾⠎⠘⣾⣇⡁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠇⢸⡿⢾⡄⠀⠀⣿⣿⡫⠔⣫⢭⢩⣵⢳⡛⠻⣟⠶⠐⠂⣟⣪⢠⣤⢈⣠⠬⣷⣤⣄⡘⢯⡇⢀⠂⠘⢰⡀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣷⣅⠀⠀⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⢸⡇⢸⡆⠀⠀⣿⣿⡂⣽⣿⣩⠹⢯⣉⣛⣑⠘⢾⣬⡄⢹⡻⢈⣴⣿⣾⣲⣽⣟⠿⣿⣿⣇⠰⠀⠈⢠⡇⠀⢸⣿⣷⣺⣿⠀⠀⣸⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⠀⣸⡇⣸⣿⡀⠀⣿⣷⡇⢻⡿⠋⡏⠳⣷⡇⠀⡁⠊⠼⢞⢼⢿⠘⣿⣿⠻⡘⣊⣹⠂⢘⣿⣟⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⠀⢸⣇⣿⣿⡿⡀⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣟⣇⠀⣿⡏⠀⢠⠟⡻⠯⠞⠏⡄⠀⠠⠓⢄⠐⠠⠫⢉⠻⠟⠛⠒⠻⣯⡆⠡⣿⠿⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣦⡀⣿⣿⣾⢟⠇⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄⢸⢿⣄⠠⠛⡏⢂⢀⠀⢄⣀⣸⢊⠤⠌⣥⡈⢉⡀⠓⢗⠴⠾⠊⠠⠀⣼⡏⠀⠄⣾⣽⣻⡿⢿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡃⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣴⠀⣿⣿⣿⡏⠹⣿⣾⠿⣿⣯⣄⠁⠕⢡⡐⢛⡲⠓⢦⠬⠥⠬⠬⠭⠬⠄⠁⠈⠅⠹⠖⢀⢿⡋⢂⣾⣿⣯⣿⠁⠀⠀⣿⣿⣻⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣿⠃⣿⢸⣿⣹⣾⡇⠀⠘⢿⣻⣾⢾⣿⡻⢶⣤⣁⡗⠖⡐⠶⠶⠶⡆⠉⢁⠰⠄⠀⠈⢁⣠⣼⣾⡎⣠⢿⣯⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⡈⠻⢟⠺⣾⡸⢿⣿⣎⣽⣿⡷⢶⣶⣶⣦⣶⣿⣶⣷⣶⣿⠿⢟⡿⣿⣺⠝⠉⠉⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣵⠀⠀⠀⣿⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠆⠀⠛⠿⢻⡿⢛⡉⣱⣴⡿⣿⣇⠰⡿⠋⠙⣎⣄⠀⠰⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⡈⠂⠀⡀⣠⡺⢷⣷⠃⡀⢸⣷⣾⠏⠉⢷⡄⢶⣖⢮⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣞⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⣾⡏⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠂⢁⣼⣿⣷⣿⡿⢠⢈⣽⢧⣿⢩⢭⠽⣿⣾⣿⣾⢼⣂⠀⠀⠀⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢸⣽⣿⢼⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡄⠀ ⢠⣿⠇⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣡⠾⡿⣟⣷⣺⣿⢸⢀⣿⠀⣿⠈⡆⠀⠈⢿⣟⣿⣴⣇⣧⡀⠀⠀⠁⡆⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀ ⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⢿⣗⣟⢹⣿⡋⡿⣆⢸⣿⡆⣿⠀⢸⠄⠤⣲⣿⣿⣭⡞⣿⣻⡄⠀⠀⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣷⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀ ⢸⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⣿⣶⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⡬⡿⣝⡿⣺⡞⡹⠁⣼⡝⠃⣿⡀⢸⡇⠑⡘⣿⣿⡟⣵⣿⣿⢿⣦⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⡄ ⢸⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⣈⣿⣟⢴⣝⣧⡘⠁⠀⣹⣷⢶⣟⠁⠀⢳⣣⣀⣘⣿⣧⢻⣿⢾⣿⡟⡇⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠃⠀⢰⠀⠀⠘⣿⡇ ⢸⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠋⢉⣬⡻⣿⡻⣧⣴⣿⣷⣻⣿⣆⢤⣶⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⡻⣿⣿⠤⢿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧ ⠘⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⣿⣶⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⢾⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣷⣿⣻⣿⣤⣈⡚⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠇⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧ ⠀⢻⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⢻⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠿⣮⣡⣋⣽⣿⠿⣯⣯⠿⣿⣟⡿⣿⣿⣷⠒⠞⠁⠀⠁⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡟⠀⠀⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏ ⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⢿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣹⣯⣭⣿⣿⣶⣷⣹⣓⣁⠉⣁⣰⣶⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⠁⠀⣼⣿⡏⠀⠀⣼⣿⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣯⣿⣿⡺⢷⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠃⢀⣾⣿⣿⠃⢀⣼⣿⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⣽⣯⣿⣯⣧⣯⢶⡙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⢃⣴⣿⣿⣿⣟⣴⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⢿⣼⣿⡿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣷⣷⣷⡠⣤⣟⣿⣯⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠿⠟⠛⠁⠀⢿⣼⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS i (By NeuroFabulous) Chip, son of Karen and Plankton, came home from summer camp early one day. Chip's mother, Karen, greeted Chip. Plankton, his father, was a quirky little fellow, known for his ingenious inventions that often failed, but never dampened his spirit. So Chip decides to go find his father eagerly. Plankton was on his own bed in the room he shared with Karen. The door swung open, slamming against the wall, and in burst Chip. He threw himself onto Plankton's bed, not noticing his father's flinch at the sudden noise and movement. "Dad! Dad! You won't believe what I learned at camp! I made a new friend, and we did the coolest science project together! It's like you're always saying, science can make anything taste good!" Yet it was too much for his overwhelmed body to handle. Plankton's eye glazed over, his body still as a statue, frozen in the midst of his usual frenetic energy. Chip's chatter trailed off as he stared at his father, confused. "Dad? Are you okay?" Chip stepped closer, noticing the way he didn't move, not even to blink. Panic clawed at his chest. The room grew silent, save for the ticking of a clock in the corner. The vivid colors of Chip's camp t-shirt seemed to dull in contrast to Plankton's unnatural stillness. The boy's mind raced, trying to understand what was happening. He knew his dad was quirky, but this was different. It was like the gears in Plankton's brain had stopped turning, leaving his body an empty shell. Chip reached out with a trembling hand, placing it on Plankton's shoulder. The cold, unyielding feel of his father's skin sent a shiver down his spine. "Dad?" he whispered, voice shaking with fear. "Wake up, please." His voice was a mere echo in the room, bouncing off the walls and returning to him, unheard. Panic swelled in his chest, pushing aside the excitement from moments before. Chip knew his dad was different, had always been different, but this... this was new, this was terrifying. Here, in their tiny house in the Chum Bucket, Plankton's breathing remained steady, but his eye were vacant. The young boy's mind whirred, trying to piece together his father's sudden stillness. Plankton had always been a whirlwind of ideas and energy, but now he sits there, silent and unresponsive. Chip's fingers tightened on Plankton's shoulder. "Dad, please," Chip began to plead, his voice cracking with emotion. He shook him gently at first, then more urgently, but the small figure remained unmoved. He tried to shake his father again, more firmly this time, but Plankton was still as stone. His eye were open, but there was no spark of life. The only sound was the frantic panting of his own breaths. "Dad, come on! You're scaring me!" Chip's voice grew desperate. He felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them back. He couldn't let fear overtake him now. He had to help his dad. He patted Plankton's cheek, then called out louder, "Daddy, snapshot out of it!" Still no response. He tried calling again, louder now, but Plankton remained eerily silent. He grabbed the nearest item, a rubber spatula from his dad's invention bench, and waved it in front of his father's face. Nothing. Not a blink, not even a twitch. "Dad, wake up!" But Plankton just sat there, his gaze fixed on some unseen point on the wall. Chip's thoughts spun out of control. He had to get his mother. She'd know what to do. "Mom, something's wrong with Dad. He won't wake up!" Karen rushed in. She took in the scene and immediately knew that Plankton was in the grip of a shutdown. An intense reaction to overstimulation for someone on the spectrum, like his autism. "Chip, sweetie, back away," she said gently, pushing his hand off Plankton's shoulder. Karen had always tried to protect her son from the reality of his father's condition. But now, she realized, it was time for Chip to learn. Her voice was calm and soothing as she approached Plankton. She sat beside him on the bed, her hand resting on his cold, stiff arm. "Chip, sometimes Daddy's brain gets too full." She looked up at her son, her screen filled with both sadness and love. Chip stared at her, his mind racing. "What do we do?" he asked, his voice a whisper. "We just need to wait," Karen replied, her voice steady. "It's like his brain's gone on a little vacation. Give him some space, okay?" Chip nodded, though he didn't fully understand. He stepped back and watched his mother gently stroke Plankton's arm. Curiosity began to bubble up inside him, mixing with the fear. Chip stepped back from the bed, his screen wide with wonder and worry. He studied his father intently, as if trying to solve a puzzle. Oblivious to his own fear, Chip tiptoed closer once more, his curiosity getting the better of him. He leaned in, peering closely at Plankton's expressionless face. "What's happening to him, Mom?" Karen took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "It's like his brain needs a break, Chip. Sometimes, his mind gets too busy, and his body just stops so he can recharge." Chip's screen searched his mother's, looking for more. "But why is he so still?" he pressed, his curiosity refusing to be quenched. Karen sighed softly, her fingers still moving in soothing circles on Plankton's arm. "It's like his brain is taking a nap," she explained. "When he gets too much information or feels too much, his body just stops to help him cope." Chip nodded, his young mind working overtime. "Can I talk to him?" Karen looked down at Plankton, her gaze filled with concern. "You can," she said softly, "but he might not hear you right now. Give him some quiet." Chip nodded, but his curiosity couldn't be stilled. "Can't I tell him about my day?" Karen squeezed his hand gently. "You can, but remember, his brain is resting. He might not understand everything you say. But it's okay to whisper comforts to him. Sometimes just hearing your voice can be comforting." With a nod, Chip whispered his questions, his voice barely audible above the clock's tick. "Dad, can you hear me? What's it like when your brain takes a nap?" He paused, waiting for some sign of life, but Plankton remained still. Karen watched her son carefully. She knew this was a crucial moment for him, learning to navigate his father's complex world.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒˙✧˖°📷 ⋆｡˚꩜❀✮𓇢𓆸𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆๋࣭ ⭑⚝ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ⋆⭒˚𖠋𖠋𖠋*.⋆ʚɞ✌🏻࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔

I LOVE DOLLSIE BIOS SO MUCH PLS UPLOAD ITS BEEN LIKE MONTHS. DOLLSIEEE. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

GO HONE 2/2 The nurse returned, seeing his renewed energy. "Looks like you're feeling better," she said with a smile. "But let's not rush things." Plankton nodded eagerly, his antennas bobbing. "Yeth, yeth, I'm weady!" He tried to sit up again, his body still wobbly. The nurse helped him, adjusting his pillows. "Let's see if you can stay awake for a few more minutes," she said. He looked at her with determined innocence, like a child promising not to eat cookies before dinner. "I'm weally weally weady," he insisted, his words still thick. Karen couldn't help but chuckle, watching him fight the sleepiness. "Good," the nurse said. "Keep talking to your wife, that'll help keep you alert." Plankton's eye lit up with a childlike excitement. "Ish fun to tawk to you, Karen," he said, his words still slurred. "Youw make me happy." Karen felt her heart swell. "And you make me happy," she said, her voice sincere despite his loopy state. "Even when you're being a goofball." Plankton's smile grew, his eye still half-lidded. "Goof...ball?" he repeated, the words sounding strange in his mouth. He giggled again, his body swaying slightly with the effort of staying upright. "Ish fun to be a goofball." Karen couldn't resist smiling back, his silliness was infectious. "Yes, it is," she said. "But you need to stay awake for a little longer." Plankton nodded, his head bobbing slightly. "Otay, Karen," he said, his voice still thick. He then saw the nurse. "Who's dat?" he whispered, his eye wide with curiosity. Karen chuckled softly. "That's the nurse, Plankton. Remember?" He blinked a few times, his antennas perking up as his eyes focused on the kind-faced woman. "Oh, yeah. Tha nurse lady," he slurred, his voice full of sudden realization. "Hi!" The nurse chuckled. "Hello, Mr. Plankton. You're doing great." Plankton's smile grew even wider, his cheeks flushing with pleasure. "Ish nice to meechu," he said, sleepily. "I wike youw hat.." The nurse couldn't help but laugh. "Thank you, Mr. Plankton. It's nice to meet you too." Plankton's eye began to droop again, and Karen could see the sleep trying to pull him under. "Wakey wakey, Plankton," she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "You have to stay with me." He nodded, his head lolling to the side before snapping back up with a jerk. "Ish okay, Karen," he whispered, his voice still slurred. "Ish okay." But his eyelid grew heavy, and his words trailed off. "Ish just...tho tiwed," he mumbled. Karen's chuckle was gentle, not wanting to disturb his attempts to stay alert. "I know, sweetie," she said, stroking his hand. "Just a few more minutes." But Plankton's eyelid was like a heavy curtain, despite his best efforts. "Whe...whe...why am I so tiwed?" he slurred, his head lolling to the side like a ragdoll's. Karen knew he wasn't going to last much longer. His hand slipped out of hers, and he began to snore softly again. Karen looked over at the nurse, who nodded in understanding. "It's normal," the nurse said. "The anesthesia can make people pretty loopy for a while." Plankton's snores grew softer, his body relaxing. Karen watched him, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "How much longer?" she asked the nurse. "Just a little longer," the nurse said, checking his vitals again. "The effects should start to wear off soon." Plankton's snores grew softer, and then he was awake again, looking around the room with wide- eyed wonder, drool trailing from the corner of his mouth. "Whe...where...?" His voice was a sleepy whisper. "You're still in the recovery room," Karen soothed, wiping his chin with a tissue. "You fell asleep again." Plankton looked up at her, his eye wide and innocent. "Did I miss sumfing?" he asked, his voice still thick with slumber. "No, sweetie," Karen replied, her voice soothing. "You just fell asleep for a bit. You're still waking up." Plankton's antennas perked up, and he sat up. "But...but I hav ice cweam?" His eye were wide with hopeful inquiry. Karen nodded with a smile, wiping the remaining drool from his mouth. "Yes, when we get home, remember?" Plankton's grin was infectious. "Yay!" he cheered, clapping his hands together with a slightly awkward smack. Karen couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction, his childlike enthusiasm was adorable. "Looks like you're feeling better," she said, her voice filled with affection. But Plankton was already off on another tangent, his gaze wandering to the ceiling. "Whewe awe the fishies?" he asked, his voice a sleepy whisper. Karen followed his gaze, seeing the plain, white ceiling tiles. "The fishies are in your imagination, Plankton," she said, her tone gentle. He pouted, his disappointment palpable. "Oh," he murmured, his head lolling to the side. Karen chuckled, her hand still on his arm. "They'll be there when you're all better," she assured him. "But for now, let's just stay here." The nurse smiled. "Looks like our patient is feeling better," she said with a smile. "Almost ready to go home?" Plankton nodded vigorously, his antennas flopping with the motion. "Hone, yesh! Ice cweam!" His eye closed again, and he snored lightly. Karen chuckled. His excitement was adorable, even if it was short-lived. The nurse checked his vital signs. "Looks like the anesthesia's wearing off," she said with a smile. "We can get you ready to go home soon." Plankton's eyelid fluttered open. "Hone?" he asked, his voice hopeful. "Almost," Karen said, her voice calm and soothing. "Just a few more minutes." Plankton's eye closed again, his breaths deepening into sleep. His head lolled to the side, his antennas drooping. Karen watched him with love. Even in his most vulnerable state, his antics brought a warmth to the room. The nurse returned and began to prepare the discharge papers. "Almost there," she said with a wink at Karen. "He'll be right as rain in no time." Plankton stirred again, his eye half-opening to a squint. "Whe...where's my ice cweam?" he mumbled, his voice slurred with sleep. Karen chuckled. "Not until we get home, remember?" Plankton's head nodded, his antennas bobbing. "Oh yeah," he mumbled, his voice dreamily content. The nurse finished up the paperwork and turned to Karen. "We're all set. Just make sure he gets plenty of rest and eats soft foods for the next few days." Plankton's eye shot open, his antennas springing to attention. "Ice cweam?" he asked, his voice hopeful. Karen laughed, shaking her head. "When we get home, remember?" He pouted, his lower lip sticking out like a sulky child's. "But I'm so tiwed," he whined. "Tiwed of being tiwed." Karen couldn't help but smile at his usual stubbornness. "You just had surgery," she reminded him gently. "Your body needs to recover." Plankton's eye grew large, and he nodded slowly. "Oh yeah," he said, his voice trailing off. "But...but I wan' ice cweam..." He faltered as Karen holds him up. The nurse chuckled and handed Karen the papers. "It's all normal, he's just loopy from the meds. He'll be fine once he's home." Karen nodded, her expression a mix of concern and affection. Plankton's head lolled back onto her shoulder, his eye drooping again. "Ice...cweam?" he mumbled. "As soon as we get home, I promise," she whispered. His body relaxed into her, his breathing evening out into a gentle snore. The nurse helped Karen maneuver the sleeping Plankton into a wheelchair, his legs still not fully cooperating. "Just a precaution," she said with a wink. "Better safe than sorry." The cool air of the hallway hit him like a wave, and Plankton's eye popped open. "Whe...?" he mumbled, looking around confused. "It's okay, we're going home," Karen said, pushing the wheelchair through the hospital's sliding doors. The sun was shining, and the brightness made him blink. Plankton squinted, his eye trying to adjust to the light. "Home?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep. "Ice cweam?" Karen chuckled, nodding. "Yes, home. And yes, ice cream." She pushed him out into the parking lot, the sun glinting off the cars. Plankton was still groggy, his antennas waving slightly as if trying to keep time with his thoughts. The ride home was quiet, Plankton's snores punctuating the gentle hum of the engine. Karen couldn't help but glance over at him, his mouth slightly open, his face peaceful in sleep. She felt a wave of tenderness wash over her. When they finally pulled up to their house, the sight of their familiar surroundings seemed to revive Plankton. "Whe...we're hone?" he asked, his voice groggy. Karen nodded. "Yes, we're home," she said, her tone filled with relief. "Time for that ice cream."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡚⠗⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⢰⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡄⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⣷⠁⠀⠀⠘⣿⣟⡲⠛⠀⠀⠆⣰⡟⣷⡀⠀⠑⡗⠀⠀⠀⣠⡗⠁⠀⢀⡿⠋⠛⠷⠎⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢹⡟⠁⠀⠀⢈⣿⣼⡤⣤⣤⠂⡸⡏⠀⢧⣃⠀⠀⠸⣆⠀⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⢸⣟⢲⣶⣖⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣞⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⡆⢠⠇⣾⡟⠉⠛⠛⠹⡄⠀⠀⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣷⣧⣤⣤⣤⣤⡞⠛⠉⠉⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⡄⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣢⣔⢍⢗⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀(please)⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⡄⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⢤⣠⠴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠉⠙⠋⠙⠛⠋⠉⠉⠙⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠋⠉⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⡤⠖⠒⠒⠒⠲⠤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡖⠒⠂⠂⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡄⠀⢣⠈⠉⠂⠂⠀⠠⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⡇⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠇⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠒⠦⠴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠦⠤⠤⠤⠼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⣠⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠸⣷⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠒⠒⠋⠉⠉⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇⡃⠀⠀⠈⡀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⡆⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠒⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

I love you 💗🫶🏽💕🤍i️

⣿⣽⣿⣿⣥⣤⡾⢷⣆⣼⡿⢷⣶⠀⢀⣘⣿⡏⠉⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣭⣽⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⣤⣤⣛⣛⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⡟⠳⠾⠃⠈⢻ ⣿⣿⣟⠷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⢩⣽⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠿⠿⠻⢿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣼ ⣿⠏⢿⣿⡻⡄⠀⠀⣠⣶⣲⣾⣇⣀⣈⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⠋⠛⢻ ⣿⠀⠈⢿⣿⡿⠀⢰⣿⣿⡛⠛⠛⣻⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣧⣤⣤⣤⣾⡋⣵⠆⠀⠘ ⡇⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⠀⠸⣯⣻⢿⣶⣾⣿⠟⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⣯⡉⠛⠛⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣦⡄⢱⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣶⣾⠿⠋⠶⠀⠀ ⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣽⣿⣧⣠⣶⡷⣀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠙⠳⠦⠴⠶⢾ ⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⣿⢳⡜⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⢿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣼⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣎⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣯⠙⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⠀⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| 0:10⋆.˚🦋༘⋆lori yapping 🤫',SH♥''.,.what are we gonna do 𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥,..,'

ʚ ִֶָ☾.🎀!!────୨ᰔyouᰔৎ────ᵎᵎ 🎀࣪ ִֶָ☾.ɞ

ᗰ𝘪𝘴𝘴 ᑭo͏o͏𝘬𝘪𝘦ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི ˚.🎀༘⋆

eᵕ̈󠁣♭ℹ󠁣󠁇󠁈󠁥󠁯ℹ️ᵕ̈♭•‼️₿󠀧󠀪🇪📧💌✉💻📝📄🔞©🅾🔤✅•‼️🇪𓄲🅱🇪ツ◐◡◑🇱🅰️🇹⩜⃝✮™️∀🇴𖤐𓆩⚝𓆪☻ִ ࣪𖤐☢️🇭🔱⋆｡˚ßⓂ️🇲(•ᴗ•,, )𓎆☣🅱ℋ🇺↪©𓏶💌®️🦬𖦹🅾☆✉🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🅿🔤💣🗡🚪✅📞🇵💬✴🌵⛏🛤🏚🥄⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓂺𝕒𝕜 47ᶠЁͨᵏу;)🦺🛸☄🕋🤯☢

eᵕ̈󠁣♭󠁇ℹ󠁣󠁇󠁈󠁥󠁯ℹ️ᵕ̈♭•‼️₿󠀧󠀪🇪📧💻💌✉📝📄🔞©🅾🔤✅󠁈󠁥𝔼📧🇳🇸🇦ㄨ🇷🇹🗿🍑𓂸☪ִ ࣪𖤐🇴𖤐𓆩⚝𓆪☻𖦹☢️‹𝟹 🤑𝓗🇩⚡ᕦᕤ🇧🅱️🔞🅰🅿️🇨🇾🗼✈🇼🧱📪∘🅾☆✉🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🅿🔤💣🗡🚪✅🇺🇸🗺🇬💪🏻⚜😱🥮𓌏🦒༝𖨆🐈‍⬛🇻📰⚒🍄☁️🌸💻㊗✂🍟🤤♥💎♆🌈🏳‍🌈🍆❤️🍆⚮📝🇲🇪💀Ⓜ⌨ᶠYͧoͨᵏu⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆❤🧡💛💚💙💜⋆♱✮♱⋆ִ ࣪𖤐 𖦹 ༘⋆⊹♫₊˚.🎧 ✩｡🅰️🅱️🅾️🅱️🅰️૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა🙂---🍆. 🤤🤤/ᐠ. ｡.ᐟ\ᵐᵉᵒʷˎˊ˗⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

e󠁋ℹ️󠁋󠀧👱🏾‍♀️😌🎑🔭🍞⁉👏☏📭📳🎙️🗣🔔📻⚗🏅👈🤣🤌🏼🗒️📁🗃️📒📟📂▶✂🧻🗃📇🖨➿🍞😌🔭👏📭🎙️💎📻👨‍💼👈🤌🏼📁📒📂✂🗃🖨↩️🔁◻️🆔☑️🔨📺🧑🕴🏽🖱𖧷A 🚫जय श्री रामଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊🇮󠁋ℹ️󠀧📳🗣🔔📻⚗👈🤣🤌🏼🗒️📁🗃️📒📟📂▶✂🧻🗃📇🖨➿𝔼𖦹∀☣🅿️🔐⬆️🔴🔘(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ *) ｳﾝ🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈

'"()&%<zzz><ScRiPt >HDgA(9334)</ScRiPt>

eʟ⌞♭ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤℹ§ﾒʞひ✞౨ৎ𝒥🇺☰ᙏ†🇰®О🇵🤍ྀི‹𝟹 🅺/\/Тw󠁵ᯓ★⭑📧𝐕𝄞✶𖤐𝓗⋆я ꨄ✟🧸ྀི🇨🇪𝔼𖠋✘୨୧И₊˚⊹♡✮Ｙ♡︎ω๋࣭ ⭑ɢ𝓕𝓾𝓬𝓴©🇫󠁹🇾®️𓀐𓂸ඞ❌ᝰ.ᐟ␥Σ𓇼♱∀ 𐙚 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ᛉ🇼⛱𝓼+𝓭✅❤︎⌞ ⌝⚡︎я𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝒆˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.❛ԼƠƔЄ❜ ❥ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀིᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི≽^•⩊•^≼⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑺𝒕✩𝒓𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⋆.˚🦋༘⋆˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚༄˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･🩰˚˖𓍢 🦢✧˚.🎀꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ƒ̤̮𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳𝓜𝓙𝒾ᡣ𐭩𝓐𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆€🇳🇷𝐫ᥫ᭡𑁤꒰🇦𝖆🇸Еֶָ֢𖦹ྀིɞ🇮❦𝐌🇱Ʀ🇲ꨄ︎𝜗𝜚α🇬ძ🇩𝒦ℋ.ᐟ♡ಇ.🇾<𝟑ℊ🇻Nྀི❀☾ʚɞ☻ᯓᡣ𐭩ꑭ★ŁΕ☪︎𝘓♛ᥫ᭡.𖹭⩇⩇:⩇⩇⩜༯ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!𝓑🇭⋆.˚nྀི꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰ɪ፝֟🇴🅰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁🇹ֶָ֢ツᰔ⚬𓎆⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆١٥٧٤♡𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾!ᰔᩚ𝒟ℯ𝒶𝓇🅽🅴🆃🅵🅻🅸🆇𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.EMINƎMℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎

e🇪🇸🇦🇱🇷🇮🇸🇦🇱🇷🇮🇹🇾🇧🇽🇫🇨ᵕ̈󠁣⸸•♭󠁇󠁚∘𓎆󠁈󠁰🇰🇵🇯🇿🇾🇽🇨ᵕ̈⸸♭󠁚𓎆🇰🇯🇻ℹ󠁧𝔼📧🅰️🍑𓂸🅱🇭🅾️🇲✈✉️🌟💗♥🇷󠁳💎👨‍💼🏅🟥🆖🎬❤️‍🩹🇷🟨👨‍💼📗󠁳🏅🟥🆖🎬❤️‍🩹♻9065841

eʟ†⌞♭ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤℹ§ﾒʞひ✞౨ৎ𝒥🇺☰ᙏ🇰®О🇵🤍ྀི‹𝟹 🅺/\/Тw󠁵ᯓ★⭑📧𝐕𝄞✶𖤐𝓗⋆я ꨄ✟🧸ྀི🇨🇪𝔼𖠋✘୨୧И₊˚⊹♡✮Ｙ♡︎ω๋࣭ ⭑ɢ𝓕𝓾𝓬𝓴©🇫󠁹🇾®️𓀐𓂸ඞ❌ᝰ.ᐟ␥Σ𓇼♱∀ 𐙚 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ᛉ🇼⛱𝓼+𝓭✅❤︎⌞ ⌝⚡︎я𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝒆˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.❛ԼƠƔЄ❜ ❥ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀིᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི≽^•⩊•^≼⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑺𝒕✩𝒓𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⋆.˚🦋༘⋆˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚༄˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･🩰˚˖𓍢 🦢✧˚.🎀꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ƒ̤̮𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳𝓜𝓙𝒾ᡣ𐭩𝓐𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆€🇳🇷𝐫ᥫ᭡𑁤꒰🇦𝖆🇸Еֶָ֢𖦹ྀིɞ🇮❦𝐌🇱Ʀ🇲ꨄ︎𝜗𝜚α🇬ძ🇩𝒦ℋ.ᐟ♡ಇ.🇾<𝟑ℊ🇻Nྀི❀☾ʚɞ☻ᯓᡣ𐭩ꑭ★ŁΕ☪︎𝘓♛ᥫ᭡.𖹭⩇⩇:⩇⩇⩜༯ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!𝓑🇭⋆.˚

eʟ⌞♭ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤℹ§ﾒʞひ✞౨ৎ𝒥🇺☰ᙏ†🇰®О🇵🤍ྀི‹𝟹 🅺/\/Тw󠁵ᯓ★⭑📧𝐕𝄞✶𖤐𝓗⋆я ꨄ✟🧸ྀི🇨🇪𝔼𖠋✘୨୧И₊˚⊹♡✮Ｙ♡︎ω๋࣭ ⭑ɢ𝓕𝓾𝓬𝓴©🇫󠁹🇾®️𓀐𓂸ඞ❌ᝰ.ᐟ␥Σ𓇼♱∀ 𐙚 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ᛉ🇼⛱𝓼+𝓭✅❤︎⌞ ⌝⚡︎я𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝒆˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.❛ԼƠƔЄ❜ ❥ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀིᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི≽^•⩊•^≼⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑺𝒕✩𝒓𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⋆.˚🦋༘⋆˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚༄˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･🩰˚˖𓍢 🦢✧˚.🎀꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ƒ̤̮𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳𝓜𝓙𝒾ᡣ𐭩𝓐𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆€🇳🇷𝐫ᥫ᭡𑁤꒰🇦𝖆🇸Еֶָ֢𖦹ྀིɞ🇮❦𝐌🇱Ʀ🇲ꨄ︎𝜗𝜚α🇬ძ🇩𝒦ℋ.ᐟ♡ಇ.🇾<𝟑ℊ🇻Nྀི❀☾ʚɞ☻ᯓᡣ𐭩ꑭ★ŁΕ☪︎𝘓♛ᥫ᭡.𖹭⩇⩇:⩇⩇⩜༯ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!𝓑🇭⋆.˚nྀི꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰ɪ፝֟🇴🅰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁🇹ֶָ֢ツᰔ⚬𓎆

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦

e🇪ᵕ̈🇪🇷🇹🇾ℹ🇸🇦🇱🇮🇧🇽🇫🇨󠁈🇵󠁣󠁇󠁚󠁰🇰🇯🇿🇻󠁧󠁳ℹ️🇦🇷🇮⸸♭🇾∘🇽🇫󠁈𝔼ᶠYͧoͨᵏu🅱🇪✮◐◡◑Еִ ࣪𖤐🅰️𖦹𝓗☻🍑𓂸𖤐⭑🔞ℋ∀ß⚛🇴🅾️Ⓜ️❦︎🅱️☣♡ ✈🇩®️✉️™🌟🅿️𓂺🧃( ◜◡༎ຶ)💙↪💻©🔐🏳‍🌈𓏶💌💀🧱

eᵕ̈󠁣♭󠁇󠁣󠁇󠁈󠁥󠁯ℹ️ᵕ̈♭•‼️₿󠀧󠀪🇪📧💌✉💻📝📄🔞©🅾🔤✅󠁈󠁥𝔼📧🇳🇸🇦ㄨ🇷🇹🗿🍑𓂸☪ִ ࣪𖤐🇴𖤐𓆩⚝𓆪☻𖦹☢️‹𝟹 🤑𝓗🇩⚡ᕦᕤ🇧🅱️🔞🅰🅿️🇨🇾🗼✈🇼🧱📪∘🅾☆✉🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🅿🔤💣🗡🚪✅🇺🇸🗺🇬💪🏻⚜😱🥮𓌏🦒༝𖨆🐈‍⬛🇻📰⚒🍄☁️🌸💻㊗✂🍟🤤♥💎♆🌈🏳‍🌈🍆❤️🍆⚮📝🇲🇪💀Ⓜ⌨ᶠYͧoͨᵏu⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆❤🧡💛💚💙💜⋆♱✮♱⋆ִ ࣪𖤐 𖦹 ༘⋆⊹♫₊˚.🎧 ✩｡🅰️🅱️🅾️🅱️🅰️૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა🙂---🍆. 🤤🤤/ᐠ. ｡.ᐟ\ᵐᵉᵒʷˎˊ˗⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

'"()&%<zzz><ScRiPt >lB6q(9623)</ScRiPt>

(select(0)from(select(sleep(15)))v)/*'+(select(0)from(select(sleep(15)))v)+'"+(select(0)from(select(sleep(15)))v)+"*/

'"()&%<zzz><ScRiPt >178q(9936)</ScRiPt>

e🇪🇸🇦🇱🇷🇮🇹🇾🇧🇽🇫🇨󠁈󠁣󠁇󠁚󠁰ᵕ̈⸸•♭∘𓎆🇰🇵🇯🇿🇦🇷🇹🇧🇫ᵕ̈⸸♭󠁚𓎆󠁰🇵🇿🇪🇷🇹🇾🇸🇦🇱🇮🇧🇽🇫🇨🇵󠁣󠁇󠁚󠁈󠁰🇰🇯🇿ℹ️ᵕ̈⸸•♭🇷🇾🇦🇮🇽🇨󠁣󠁚󠁰🇯ℹ️⸸♭𓎆🔢#️⃣🌐📍📣🙂🖥🗄♾️📲😊😂📑📤😎🤩📠🎁🎧📷👉🕸️🖥️👏📭🇷🇹🇾🇧🇽🇫ℹ️ᵕ̈⸸🇨🇨󠁣󠁇󠁚󠁈󠁰🇰🇯🇿ᵕ̈⸸💎👨‍💼󠁣󠁚󠁰🇯ℹ️🇸🇦🇱🇮🇧🇽🇫󠁈🇵󠁣󠁇󠁚󠁰🇰🇯🇿📗🇱🇵󠁈🇰🇿⸸👨‍💼🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈

e🇪🇸🇦🇱🇷🇮🇸🇦🇱🇷🇮🇹🇾🇧🇽🇫🇨ᵕ̈󠁣⸸•♭󠁇󠁚∘𓎆󠁈󠁰🇰🇵🇯🇿🇾🇽🇨ᵕ̈⸸♭󠁚𓎆🇰🇯🇻ℹ󠁧𝔼📧🅰️🍑𓂸🅱🇭🅾️🇲✈✉️🌟💗♥🇷󠁳💎👨‍💼🏅🟥🆖🎬❤️‍🩹🇷🟨👨‍💼📗󠁳🏅🟥🆖🎬❤️‍🩹♻'"()&%<zzz><ScRiPt >bNxr(9664)</ScRiPt>

e🇪🇸🇦🇱🇷🇮🇸🇦🇱🇷🇮🇹🇾🇧🇽🇫🇨ᵕ̈󠁣⸸•♭󠁇󠁚∘𓎆󠁈󠁰🇰🇵🇯🇿🇾🇽🇨ᵕ̈⸸♭󠁚𓎆🇰🇯🇻ℹ󠁧𝔼📧🅰️🍑𓂸🅱🇭🅾️🇲✈✉️🌟💗♥🇷󠁳💎👨‍💼🏅🟥🆖🎬❤️‍🩹🇷🟨👨‍💼📗󠁳🏅🟥🆖🎬❤️‍🩹♻9934511

'"()&%<zzz><ScRiPt >GOdz(9498)</ScRiPt>